Of Ancients and Giants
by Mediam Noctem
Summary: The war is over. Billions are dead. Hundreds of planets are forever tainted. In this grim, hopeless future, humanity finds itself fighting day-by-day for the right to exist in a universe that shows no mercy. Yet things only get more complicated with the arrival and invasion of a new species of aliens who expose humanity to a much larger galaxy... and greater Evil. (AU Post-Halo 3)
1. Chapter 1: Just another day

**Disclaimers** : I do not own halo nor mass effect or any video game franchises for that matter. So don't sue me.

 **Author Note:** Following the more controversial start to the original story, I have decided to refine the entire story to account for a more… "realistic" scenario as well as slightly, different approach...

The events of this story are different from what happened in the canon timeline following the events of Halo 3.

Please Review, tell me what you like what you didn't like. Trust me I do read them, so by all means say something.

* * *

In a future where Humanity is in a constant state of war within and without, heroes constantly arise… and fall. Humanity's greatest soldiers, the Spartan IIs are all but gone. The best and brightest of Humanity's leaders have long since been killed in action. Hundreds of planets and their citizens had been turned to glass by genocidal aliens. In a future where there is no hope, how will humanity move forward?

* * *

 **Hostile Area**

 **Sparta**

"Weston, checkpoint!"

"Shepard! Where the hell are you?!"

"RV twenty seconds ma'am."

Lieutenant Jane Shepard pressed down on the accelerator of the M12 Force Application Vehicle, also nicknamed the Warhog, revving the vehicle to over 120 kilometers an hour. The carbon nanotube wheels fought hard to find purchase in the slippery undergrowth that seemed to had taken over the unused road. The surrounding jungle slowly turned to a large green blur as the Warhog sped down the enclosed space of the tiny road, leaving dirt and dust in its wake.

Ahead of her, Shepard could see the entrance into an enemy compound: a rusty metal gate lined with thick strands of barbwire. And in the distance, Jane could hear the echoes of a raging firefight as her team and the enemies exchanged fire with one another.

Jane's comms crackled as her commanding officer called out for her once more "Shepard we need that extraction, now!"

Holding down the accelerator with anticipation, the Warhog crashed through the gate, undamaged and not slowed in the slightest. The same couldn't be said for the gate though, as two pieces of flimsy metal were twisted and came apart from the impact. With a skid, the vehicle's direction was expertly altered, allowing Jane to move towards the extraction point without having to waste time turning. However, Jane progress was hindered when she was forced to weave in and out of randomly placed barriers and small explosions. Getting through the obstacle course, she finally reached the location of her squad at the base of a polycrete plaza.

Most of the team was either was down or marked injured. Mud also covered the entirety of each and everyone one of their bodies.

Two bodies in combat gear lay motionless on the pocketed ground, and keeping the enemy from sticking their heads out of cover was Shepard's Squad leader, Lieutenant Commander Melissa Cantos. She seemed cold and calculating as ever, as she ran near a concrete barrier, pulled out a grenade and lobbed it towards a nearby car where a group of enemies had taken cover. Upon seeing the grenade roll to their position, some of the enemies broke off and ran towards separate directions, those who did were met by the bullets of the Lt Commander's gun. The rest were taken out by the grenade.

Unfortunately for the Commander herself, that split second where she was out of cover was all her enemies needed before shooting both of her legs, painting it in crimson red paint.

Shepard immediately pulled the vehicle to a stop, making sure to place the vehicle between the "injured" Squad Leader and the large amounts of incoming fire originating from nearby trees.

Hopping out of the Warhog, Shepard ran and slid over to her Lieutenant Commander, mud splashing all over her uniform.

"My legs are out Shepard. As exciting as it may be to crawl over to the Warhog; I would prefer it if I could keep my dignity and actually make it this time."

Shepard grabbed her by the handle on the back of her armor and dragged her to the Warhog. Paying close attention as to avoid being in the sights of any weapon, Shepard tried to minimize her target size by shrinking down as small as she could. She watched as two other members of her team provided covering fire for her, suddenly two roars could be heard, and each teammate came down with shot to the heads, a single round each. Someone apparently had a Designated Marksman Rifle.

A few words scrolled across her helmet's visor.

"JARED MILLER, ONYX SQUAD, KIA"

"ANGELA RODRIGUEZ, ONYX SQUAD, KIA"

When she finally got to the Warhog her helmet alerted her to a terrible development with a simple five words, "MELLISA CANTOS, ONYX SQUAD, KIA".

 _Fuck._

She turned to her squad leader, only to find her down with four shots to the chest.

Jane felt bad about having to leave the Lt-Commander behind but at this point it would take more effort to put her into the warhog then just leave her behind. So without a further thought, she dropped her on the mud outside the warhog and called out to her fellow squadmates, only to receive no reply. As if things couldn't get any worse, Shepard's helmet suddenly provided another alert, one that showed how bad the situation had deteriorated.

"JANE SHEPARD, LAST MAN STANDING."

She immediately raced to the other side of the warhog, searching for the weapon she placed on the passenger seat. Placing her hands on the handle of the weapon, she was instantly smart linked with it. The image of the weapon showed on the upper right corner of her visor, her choice of weapon, an old M6H magnum with a wooden finish, a gift from her father.

With a flick of the safety, Jane felt she was ready to take on the world. But she was caught off guard as turned around at the sound of splashing mud, only to find herself facing down the barrels of a pistol and a DMR. Holding those weapons were some of the cruelest bastards she had ever met.

A young man's voice spoke out, unfriendly and unforgiving "Shoot her legs."

Shepard instantly lost all feeling of her lower body, and quickly slumped to the ground, back against the warhog. In an act of defiance, Shepard looked up to her attackers and managed to squeeze down the trigger of her pistol once before a rifle round to the head ended all feeling.

* * *

 **Sparta Academy of Military Studies**

 **Sparta**

Shepard would awake later to the revving of engines and the sound of soldiers marching across the grounds of a large campus. Opening her eyes, Shepard found herself in a large medical tent, where each and every bed in the little space was occupied with unconscious marines or soldier cadets. All of who were involved with the recent training exercise that she was a part of. She scanned across the room, personal belongings and olive-drab clothing lay neatly folded near every sleeping person on single shelved furniture. Outside she could see numerous Cadets in the same olive drab clothing, doing various activities under the heat of the golden sun that lie above.

Less than a minute after she woke up, Shepard was greeted with the sight of a familiar dark skinned man in a blue working uniform, the three golden stripes that ran down the length of either shoulder identified him as a Commander of the Navy. She immediately tried to get up of the bed to salute, only to be told to not move by her ranking-superior.

"Relax Shepard," He said with a smile. "I'm just here to check on how you're doing. Heard those two kids got you again." Shepard knew whom he was talking about, the Close Quarters Combat specialist named Kaiden Alenko and his little girlfriend, the school's second best marksmen (or Markswoman), Rahna Batca. Officially, of course, they were not dating; the rules against fraternization assured that. Unofficially though, everyone knew that they were totally a thing.

"I'm okay, I only got tagged in the head." She knew she was being modest of course, but she didn't want to look bad in front of the man she virtually considered to be her mentor.

The man simply pursed his lips in frustration, before tussling her hair in an uncle-like way. "You may think you can lie to me Shepard but I didn't get these wrinkles for just any plain, old reason. A round to the head, regardless of whether it's a Tactical Training Round or not can kill someone. Hell most of these people-" He motioned his hands towards the numerous cadets who lay unconscious on the beds. "-were all taken out by shots to the chest. Come on Shepard you should already know this, better yet you should have known better then to stay in the wide open."

Shepard remained silent, her eyes looking downward at nothing in particular.

Waiting for a reply and not getting any, the man spoke once again "Keep Alenko in an enclosed space, he needs more room then you to move. And Rahna has always had trouble when it comes to hesitating, use that to your advantage. But nevertheless, I'm glad to see you are doing better. Just try not to let these damn kids beat you at this again." She knew he was staring down at her but she did not dare looking him the eye, she just could not bring herself to do it.

"Get better Shepard. Kick those kids asses next time." and without another word, the man walked out of the tents.

Leaving Shepard to her own thoughts.

It was not until thirty minutes later when some Doctor arrived that she was cleared to head back to her dorms. Putting on the olive-drab clothing next to her bed, Shepard left the tent, and entered the great outdoors. Dozens of cadets just like her marched across the well-trimmed grass doing everything their Senior-Year leaders told them to do. Around the open field, low-rise concrete buildings created walls, creating a sort of boundary for where people could and could not go. Small concrete barriers created an area for where vehicles were not allowed to enter.

Continuing her walk to the dorms, she passed more concrete buildings, all of which looked the same. The only difference being the numbers on the walls that marked each building. More cadets passed back and forth, running, walking, or just conversing with another. If people had not been wearing uniforms or military buzzcuts it might have even looked normal. But this place was nothing near normal.

Founded in 2556, Sparta since the moment a UNSC craft discovered it, had been planned as a world for military use. In less then three months, the UNSC engineering Corp had established this entire facility as an institution for military learning. It was not for the men and women already in the military but for their kids, usually around the age of fourteen to sixteen. SAMS curriculum was geared around the teaching of military studies to its cadets so they would graduate with an Officer's Commission. The exact Military studies in question covered everything involved over the military theory, method, and practice, military science and history. All of these were consistent with the production of young capable men and women who would become the next-generation of military leaders.

Her dad always told her that " _Today's world was impossible only a few years ago_." Her first memory was that of a glassing, one of the last she would later discover had resulted in the deaths of over 99% percent of the colony and all her friends. She remembered the bright red beam that came down like a storm of fire from God himself.

Thirty million.

That was how many was lost on that little planet. Funny thing was, that was nothing, a drop in the bucket compared to how many total were gone in that war. Fast-forward a couple of years and now they were rebuilding, reclaiming all that they had lost in the covenant war. But that didn't come without a few obstacles, the covenant remnants were still a thing, glassing and killing the planets they stumbled upon. Brute raiders and Kig-Yar pirates still existed. Insurrectionists were making a rise. The occasional colony ship went missing outside of UNSC space for unknown reasons, it was just the way things were.

It wasn't until she finished her thought that Shepard realized where she was in. She had stopped by in the main courtyard. Slabs of smooth stone covered the floor, well-trimmed brushes fenced the area, and enclosing it was the offices of the staff, black/greenish buildings made of metal. It was a virtually square within a square within a square, once you added the pool of water in the middle. The seamless combination of colors made the small vista such a pleasing place to be in.

Unfortunately, Cadets were not often here unless they were either lost or in trouble. But in her case...

She looked up at statue that was in the middle of the pond, the center of attraction. The base of it contained a golden plaque of the school's motto. It read "Duty and Honor Above All".

Jane felt in instant tingling sensation running through her body when she read those words. It was as if she looking into the face of not just history but something _more._

The entire colony was named after it, or more correctly ' _him_ ' she reminded was like a legend from some distant time, a knight in emerald armor who would slay the dragon, and bring peace to the kingdom. _His_ stories always sounded like something from a comic pad, something so unimaginative and unreal you would think it is was impossible, part of someone's imagination. But her dad, no every veteran said otherwise. The man in emerald armor; the last of his kind, the _"Unconquering Hero", "Spartan 117",_ and she remembered her dad saying something once when he drank too much, a strange name she remembered, " _The Demon",_ but all of the UNSC knew him by one name " _The Master Chief"_.

You hear a lot about him while growing up. Many of those who were there, both alien and human, in the Covenant war talked about him. Ask any little kid what they wanted to be when they're older and you'll likely get the same answer 9 out of 10 times, _A SPARTAN._

Jane gazed upward at the tall, proud statue of the legendary hero, looking into the distance. With the black stone polished and gleaming against the golden sunlight, he looked like everything his uncles and aunts and fathers told her about him.

 _What if he was still alive? How different would things be now?_ During these kinds of moments, it was hard for one to not ask such questions. Stealing once last glance at the statue Jane left, her imagination running wild at the possibilities.

* * *

 **CSV Elasa's Song**

 **Task Force 101**

"Spectre Vasir, the Captain requests your presence abroad the bridge."

The elite agent sighed before closing down the programs on her omni-tool. Uncrossing her legs, she got off the plump, soft couch and stretched. Not bothering to thank the waiting crewmen, the Spectre walked right past her. Despite blowing her off, the asari crewmen stared in awe at the Council's operative. It wasn't every day that _the_ Tela Vasir walked past you. Every asari in Citadel space (and in some cases the Terminus Systems) had heard of Spectre Vasir and her exploits. There were entire movies about her missions, shows about her combat prowess, and even an interview seen by billions about how she got her rock hard, delicious abs.

Trailing behind the Spectre, the asari crewmen watched as other ship workers and service crewmen made way for her. Each of them was staring at the Spectre, and then her as she followed behind. It felt awesome. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last long for as soon as the Spectre stepped into the bridge, the asari crewmen would be forced to return to her duties.

The same could be said for Tela Vasir however. Who now had to speak with the Captain, a one Alik Lytax, who was also a one, large pain in the ass.

After waiting a few moments, the female turian placed the holopad in her hands down. "Vasir. I've been waiting for you." _This bitch..._ "The turians have begun setting up defensive positions around the relay, they think that..." Vasirs mind slowly blocked out the turian's words as she rambled on about something. Her mind was no longer focused on what she had to say but in how many ways she could kill Alik, which as of now was thirty.

Fortunately for her, Tela needed the Captain for this mission, as her ship, _this_ very ship, was one of the new stealth frigates produced jointly by all three Council races. And for this mission, Tela needed her ship. But as soon as it was over though, Tela would make sure to make Alik's life a living hell.

"-and thats the end of it. You think you're ready to go yet? I know I am."

She rolled her eyes at the Captain.

 _Just a little more time and I wont have to see this Sha-Shan again._

Taking a look out the window, Tela was greeted with the sight of a large, inert Mass Relay. It lacked the movement of the gyroscopic rings, or even the bright blue color of their eezo core in use. It was funny to think that this thing, this dead thing, could open up new possibilities. "Send the activation codes. Get the Relay moving. And Captain, I want the prisoner up here too."

The Captain frowned at that, apparently she wasn't too happy with that order. "The prisoner up here?" she asked.

Tela folded her arms in response. "Yes."

"Dormin!" she growled.

A salarian on one of the consoles turned his head rapidly.

"Tell security down below to bring up the prisoner."

"Yes ma'am." The response was fast as was the typing she could hear all the way from here.

Moments later... two turians in full, combat gear arrived, escorting a familiar figure between them. Bridge crew turned to get a look at the site of the pink-skinned, brown furred asari-like alien that came in.

"Get your slimy hands off me you Covie bastards.", spittle flew out of his mouth and tried staring everyone down. Despite his yelling, no body, expect Tela Vasir understood what he said. Thank god for Spectre Requisitions, her translator was top-of-the-line, with its newest language being that of the humans.

Turning to him with minor annoyance, Tela Vasir said '"You keep talking about these 'Covies', yet you don't explain who they are. But thats kind of irrelevant right now, all my superiors want to know is, how can we get in contact with your government?"

"What the UNSC?" responded the man, angry clear as day in his voice. "Fuck them! And fuck you!" Captain Alik turned around, pretending to not care what Tela and the alien said to one another. She was curious of course, but right now, running her ship was more important.

But Tela was a different story, her patience was waning thin.

"Listen, I don't care about your pity hatred. I have a job to do, and you're wasting my time. So this is what we're gonna do..." She came close to his face, close enough to smell his foul breath. "...we're gonna go to the next system and you'e going to point out which place I can get ahold of your leaders from. If you do not cooperate-" Tela looked down at the trousers he was wearing. "-I am going to slowly, cut off your half-quad and shove it in that already dirty mouth of yours. Do you understand?"

The man gulped at the final part.

 _Perfect._

"Y-Yes. I understand." he croaked.

Turning towards the ship's Captain, Tela spoke to her once more. "Are we ready?" she asked.

The Captain nodded her head. Whatever Tela said to the creature, had caused him to stop yelling. Even the two turians standing next to him were surprised. Alik smiled at that, she didn't like Spectres in the slightest but by the spirits did they know how to get things done.

With a flash of blue and white lightening, the CSV _Elasa's Song_ was transported one and twenty light years, in the blink of an eye. Throwing out scans, from the stealth frigate's rather delicate, sensor array, the CSV Elasa's song was provided a detailed map of the system, albeit with light-second delays but for the most part were of very little concern.

Console operators began reporting immediately.

"Jump success."

"Engines green."

"Stealth systems engaged."

"Star maps collecting data."

"Captain. Locking on sentient transmissions from all nearby star systems."

The Captain nodded in turn, her hand running through her fringe. It was a force of habit.

"Can you translate them?"

The salarian paused as he read over the data. "Negative." he replied in a quick salarian accent. He began reading down the information "Insufficient data. Heavy encryption. Signal needs to be clearer. Would need to get closer for a better chance."

Turning to face Tela, Alik saw her nodding in agreement. The human behind them was scared, unsure of what exactly was going on.

"Very well. Bring us in, search every star, every planet and every moon for signs of life."

Captain Alik never realized how that very command would affect the Galaxy forever.

* * *

 **Comments? Criticisms? Flames?**


	2. Chapter 2: Contact

Contact

* * *

 **Edited 8/4/15 to account for a small problem**

Ageles: Lowerclass Cadets

Eirena: Upperclass Cadets

* * *

 **Sparta Academy of Military Studies**

 **Sparta (Six months later)**

Cadet Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, daughter of the renowned and highly decorated marine, Gunnery Sergeant David Shepard, was upset. Not at the fact that one of her instructors had given her entire class a pop quiz over military history, not that she couldn't get in contact with those outside due to communications issues, but at the fact that today's lunch meal was meatloaf. _Vegetarian_ _Meatloaf_ , however the hell that worked.

Taking a seat a seat near one of her friends at the table, Shepard dropped her tray on to it with a _splat!_

"What's with the frown Shepard? Last time I saw you like this was during M2T."

M2T was the nickname for Medical Trauma Training, a rigorous course dedicated to teaching cadets the hardships of providing medical care to those injured in the field. Environments were realistic, instructors would shoot rounds right over cadets heads to simulate the pressure of enemy fire, and the person being provided to was a life-size synthetic doll that had all the realistic features of a wounded human being. A synthetic blood-like substance would spew from the body, limbs could be taken off, and it featured a realistic look at the human body, fake muscle tissue, artificial veins and organs and all. Shepard's first time required her to fix a doll with a missing leg, torn off by an explosion.

To say it was a stressful experience would be… an understatement.

"Its fake-meatloaf Kaiden. Fake vegetarian meatloaf, even MREs (Meal Ready to Eat) taste better." She frowned in disgust; Kaiden in the meanwhile simply shook his head, before using his fork to dig in to the brown rectangle that was his food. Shepard, being one to not act too dramatic, did the same.

A few bites later, Kaiden and Shepard began talking over some recent developments within the past week, Miguel's prank on Instructor Carter, Onyx Squad's win over Amethyst Team, the recently built orbital elevator, and of course the terrible meatloaf. Only six months ago, this conversation would have been impossible, Shepard and Kaiden would have fought each other anywhere if they had the chance. But after the graduation of last year's class (including Rahna), Kaiden and Shepard had realized that they had very few people to talk to, and so after some time (and a lot of apologies), they became close friends. Their conversation about the meatloaf ended though when one of Shepard's friends, Sun Jeong, a lively, small girl of asian descendant, ran towards Shepard, tray in hand.

"Shepard!" she called from two tables away, drawing the attention of those around her. Shepard began to blush, Sun was nice and all, but she was always, just, _loud_. Annoyingly so.

A few quick steps later and she was near the edge of the table, sliding herself next to Shepard . "Did you guys hear? Did you guys hear?" repeated Sun excitedly. She was shaking in her seat, which made Shepard a little uncomfortable.

Kaiden decided to humor her, "Hear what?"

"Don't tell anyone but I heard from a friend of mine that since today was Sparta Day, we have a guest speaker coming in! A Spartan!" she half-whispered/half yelled. Everyone around the table stopped talking, forks were dropped and for a moment those around her became silent.

"Oops."

On another table, parallel to where Sun was sitting, Sapphire Team's leader, a large seventeen-year-old kid named Charles silenced his teammates. Looking at Sun with disbelief, he asked "Who told you that?"

Sun was about to open her mouth to answer when an the speakers throughout the room made a pinging noise, signifying an important announcement was about to be made. Students from all across the cafeteria quieted down as the Academy's A.I, Leonidas, began to speak.

"All cadets, report to the amphitheatre at nineteen zeroes. All cadets, report to the amphitheatre at nineteen zeroes."

And just like that the announcement was over. Cadets throughout the space slowly began to resume their normal conversations. On the other table, Charles simply glanced at Sun before smiling, and turning to one of his teammates after they said something interesting.

Sun looked at Shepard, the smile on her face was enormous. "See, I told you Shep."

Shepard simply shook her bed, before focusing her attention to the only good thing on her tray, a single, large, juicy apple.

 **Sparta Academy of Military Studies**

 **Sparta**

At 19:00 hours, the auditorium was a buzz of activity. Cadets of all years, numbering nearly four-hundred, were talking to each other over various things, the main talk of the moment being the guess of who the guest speaker was. Rumors had been passed around that it was a Spartan, a real honest-to-god Spartan. For the members of Onyx Squad, all of who were seated next to each other in a single, easily distinguishable group, they were talking about the guest, throwing out theories of who it was, and kinds of questions that they could ask them.

"Think it's one of the original Spartans?"

"No way man, everyone knows that their all gone. Master Chief was the last one. Now it's all new. "

"Think it's a guy or girl?"

"If it's a girl, she better be hot."

"Oh Carlos, you really would wish that wouldn't you."

The excitement began to reach its climax as the school's Headmaster, General Coats, stepped on to the large, grandiose stage. He was a Longsword pilot during the Covenant war... until a banshee did a number on him, specifically his face, it was how he got the large scar that ran across his right eye. With a single, gesture of his hand, the sea of red and black quieted down, their attention solely on him.

He cleared his voice with a throaty cough, and tapped the two-stared insignia on his jacket before addressing the entire auditorium.

"Cadets" he began, his voice amplified through the speakers in the room, by the device on the collar of his uniform.

"Today, we celebrate the founding of this institution and the very colony it was built on. Only a few years ago, this planet was discovered by the UNSC _Vanguard_ , a sahara-class prowler that to this day continues to bare the burns and scars of the largest war ever seen by this Galaxy, the Great War." He scanned the crowd, all eyes intently on him.

"Despite acknowledging the fact that we were not alone, it was this war that taught us to realize that we were no longer the sole masters of the galaxy. That in no way, that does life owe us anything. We have discovered the hard way, that despite what we may believe about our own superiority, that we are just as vulnerable as those who live in the darkness between the stars. That in no way will any one of you be able to take the easy and way out. For all of _you_ were called here, to serve a higher purpose, to lead our future in the hopes that _you_ will be the one to provide us with it. Cadets, look at those sitting at the very top of this auditorium, they are the next generation of leaders, those who will lead us into the light. And in time _you_ will too."

He stopped to let it sink in.

"Do not take your job lightly, for here at this school, we only train the very best. Those who can fight against insurmountable odds, those who can keep back the tide of creatures that seek our destruction, and not falter under the threat of extinction." He clenched his fist.

" _We are Spartans_ " said the entire upperclass, many of the lowerclass were unaware of the fact they should have been chanting with them.

"You are here because we have watched too many of our brothers and sisters burn under the cause of a religious crusade. Fall to the power of scorching suns, against foes with the intention of removing our existence from this galaxy. Well I say, never again."

" _In the fire we were forged! For we are Spartans!"_

"We will fight against the darkness; we will not go out without a fight, for when we bring the light, we will say 'never again'. "

 _"In hell we will return! For we are Spartans!"_

"We have watched world after world fall to the hands of an agglomeration of species, creatures who served but one purpose: to kill us. Our people were nearly wiped out. Well I say never again."

" _We will reclaim! For we are Spartans!"_

"Our heroes have fallen one by one to the overwhelming tide, swooped aside by hate. They were never shown mercy as they died on fields of glass. But you are here… so now I say never again."

" _Never again_! _We are Spartans!_ " cried the class in a single unified chorus.

" _You_ will take us forward unto Dawn."

The entire room began to yell in unison, " _WE ARE SPARTANS! WE ARE SPARTANS_!"

"Here to help us to reclaim and move forward, is Retired-Corporal Laura Palmer." The entire room shot into an uncontrollable roar as a red-haired woman, broad-shouldered, six foot-eight in height, walked across the stage in a black uniform. Everyone could see a patch on right shoulder, a Golden Eagle with lightning bolts and arrows being held by its talons… the telltale sign of a member of the SPARTAN Branch. Many were wowed, some gasped in silent surprise. Everyone wanted to be a SPARTAN when they finished here.

She stopped near General Coats, towering over him, before shaking his hand and whispering something inaudible to his ear. He quickly left, fast walking off the stage and disappearing into the darkness in a hurry. The entire space began to quiet down in respect to the guest speaker.

"Wow! That was an intense speech. So anyway, hi guys, how are y'all doing today?"

The responses were different, but the main answer was the same: Good.

"So as you can see on my name tag, my name is Palmer, but you can just call me Laura. And in case you didn't notice or you just weren't paying attention-"she began moving around the stage, her hands gesturing to whatever she was talking about. Her name to her name tag, Branch to the patch, etc. "-I'm a Spartan." Some of the students giggled to that, others paid deep attention, taking everything she said a little too seriously.

"So obviously I'm here to give you a speech, but before I do that, let me tell you a little about myself. Ummm… I was born in 2526, yup, right at the start of the war, on Earth, in the United Northern States. Lived most of my childhood on a farm, dreamed of becoming a marine, seeing space and what not. I loved the outdoors, my dad would always take me out, during Hunting Season, with him. By the time I was ten, I knew everything there was to know about rifles, especially the old ones. Flash forward a bit to my young adulthood, I joined the marines at age seventeen. My very first deployment was to Asgard, a very small farmworld between the borders of the inner and outer colonies. First time I met the Covenant too, apparently we lost the planet before we even touched boots on the ground. So for the next ten years, I was deployed to twelve different planets, with the final one ironically being Earth. I was there when the Covenant attacked Earth, kids. New Mombossa, remember it like it was just yesterday, I was down loading equipment into a warhog with a couple' buds of mine when we got the call. Flash forward two years, apparently someone high up there liked how well I was doing, next thing you know-" she clapped her hands together "-I'm a foot and quarter taller."

"So right before I get into my talks, I'd like to answer a couple of questions."

Hundreds of Cadets raised their hands, with Palmer randomly picking out students. She answered questions like…

" _How long did it take for you to become a SPARTAN_?"

"Well, first you gotta' get augmented, takes a couple of weeks for most people to get used to it. After I got 'em, took me two days to learn how to walk again, and three weeks to get used to 'em. After that, you go through two months of physical training, the kind that normal people would die from. A couple months of Fireteam tactics, then when they think you're ready, they toss you into a livefire exercise. If you complete it you graduate, if you don't... well."

 _"Why are you so tall?"_

"That has to do with the augmentation process. Your bones are infused with a substance that makes them unbreakable, but to do that, your bones and joints need to reinforced. So to get that they lengthen your bones out, imagine stretching dough, makes you taller."

 _"Who teaches you to become a SPARTAN?"_

"The same people who made the original SPARTANs."

" _What made you want to become a SPARTAN_?"

"What wouldn't make you want to become one?"

Out of a stroke of luck, Shepard's hand was the last one to be called upon. She was excited because she had been dying to get an answer to her question. Rising up to ask the Spartan directly, everyone's eyes were on Shepard while she loudly asked, "Have you ever met the Master Chief?"

Everyone who had been looking at Shepard turned to Laura, their curiosity peaked. She smiled to the question.

"Yes. Yes I have. Funny that you ask that, he is in fact the reason I became a Spartan. Remember how I said that I was in New Mombossa when the Covenant attacked? Well, so was the big fella himself, in fact while me and my boys were unloading some equipment off those warhogs that I mentioned earlier, he came running to our position. Four Wraiths thought they were chasing him, when in fact he was just coming to us for some more ammo. From there we traveled through the sewers to get to our HQ, Chief was with us the entire time.

She laughed thinking back over that time.

"I tried hitting on him twice the entire way to the HQ, something about that voice, and his height. Plus I've always fancied myself a man in uniform."

From across the auditorium Shepard heard someone yell " _Did you get it in_?!"

Some of the students laughed, while others turned away from the interruption with a smile. Of course some of the instructors weren't laughing as they stared into the faces of the entire cadet audience, searching for the person who made the obnoxious comment.

"Nah-" she looked out into the distance "-it seems that he was taken by another lady friend. Chief was one of the craziest Mike Foxtrots I've ever met and he saved my bacon." She paused, mulling over the memories of a war that seemed like it happened forever ago.

From the front of the auditorium, a young cadet, likely a freshmen for failing to use common courtesy and just the way she spoke, asked "What lady friend?"

Spartan Palmer was seemingly broke out her trance, smiling at the young girl. "Questions are over kids, save 'em for the end. It's time to get to that to speech."

Some of the young freshmen in the front "boooed" to that.

"So, who here is a senior cadet..."

* * *

 **CSV Elasa's Song**

 **Orbiting Sparta**

Spectre Tela Vasr carefully peeled off the bed sheets that covered her, sliding her feet off the bed one foot at a time. Making sure to make no noise, Tela tip-toed her way to the restroom, careful as to not awake the curivous figure that slept on her bed. She sneaked one glance at the asari in her bed before closing the bathroom door behind her.

A few minutes later, Tela existed, wearing a close-cut blue and white custom armor that complimented her own curves. She quietly moved towards the door, closing it and leaving the snoring figure in her room alone.

She entered the hallway and let out a large breath that she was unconsciously holding in as soon as the door closed behind her. _Goddess that girl makes me feel old._ Tela began her walk to the bridge, licking her lips and thinking of the young asari that shared the night with. It wasn't hard for Tela to get her into the bed, for two reasons: First being the fact that she was a maiden, and the second being the fact that she was a big fan of Tela.

The moment she stepped on the bridge though, all that happiness disappeared, for she was once again in the pit of horrible creature known as Captain Alik. Looking around however, Tela saw she was nowhere to be found, _Maybe today is going to be easier than I thought…_ Tela saw the Captain's empty seat and considered taking advantage of her abscense.

Her hopes would be short-lived however, for as soon as Tela was less than a foot away from the comfortable looking chair, the Captain walked in, a salarian in tow.

"Captain, I advise against tampering of core actuators. Possibility of exp-"

The dark-skinned turian shook her head. "Listen" she said "I don't recall you being the Captain of this ship. As far as I'm concerned the Council put me in charge of this ship, so to disagree with me is to argue with the Council; and you're not suggesting that you know better than Council do you?"

The Salarian could not argue with that, especially not the way she worded it. Everything on the bridge was recorded, and if he disagreed with her he was facing political suicide. Career options would drop like the long-leafs of Ser kesh's trees.

"No. I apologize Captain." He said defeated.

The turian's mandibles raised in a smile. "Good. Now get back to work, I don't tolerate squabbles." She turned her attention to the rest of the bridge crew, searching intently for any discrepancies before even noticing Vasir's presence. "Vasir." She spat her name in disgust "Always a pleasure to see you abroad the bridge of MY ship."

Tela looked around, curious as to who she thought she was talking to. "Oh wait, you're talking to me." She said.

For the past six months that Tela had been on the goddess-forsaken ship, Tela had learned the true meaning of the word "Patience". It was like Asari Commando Training all over again, except the physical portion was replaced with psychological training. Regardless, after this was all over, Alik Lytax would pay.

Before Alik could reply Tela interrupted "You know what, just give me the report on whats going on." Tela crossed her arms, just coincidentally leaving her Spectre badge uncovered.

Alik knew how far she could go before the Spectre got personal, "Hmm…Maesk, whats our status?"

"The Goran, Tetlitus's Shadow, and the Darkened Edge are reporting green across the board, no discernible change in the human's daily activities."

"What exactly are they doing right now?"

"Considering their similar living cycles, they should be sleeping now."

Tela nodded, _another boring day._ She sighed in disbelief, _another boring damn day._ Of course, spying on the humans had provided a lot of info, over the battlefield effectiveness of the Phoro-Class stealth frigates and some info of humanity. Of course, the actual knowledge came from the human who provided insight into what the humans were doing. Had they not found that disturbed man alive in that wrecked ship of his, the time to find where his species had come from would have taken decades, having to go through each planet one by one. Luckily though, he provided an idea of living conditions preferred by human beings. Details like that had led them to this planet, two light-years from the nearby mass-relay system.

Besides what had been collected so far had only pointed out to how militaristic and violent the species were… but then again, if what the human had said about their history with aliens so far was true… then….

"Captain!" Maesk yelled, catching Alik and Tela's attention. "I'm picking up an unscheduled mass relay jump." His three-fingered hands scrawled through orange holograms, unlike Alik, Tela knew that there no point in trying to understand what he was doing. So she simply asked instead, "Maesk, can you identify who jumped?"

Slimy fingers, tapped on an orange keyboard, "Three ships, two match old generation turian cruisers, one is a freighter. All three ships appear to be heavily modified; two have extensive battle damage… Wait! More relay activity. Turian cruisers and frigates inbound."

The salarian tapped a button, and right in the middle of the bridge was a hologram of the entire system. The three unknown ships were tagged as red blocks, with predicted flight paths showing their most likely point of destination. Yellow ships representing the turian cruisers were following from behind. So far, all three ships were headed towards their position, but none were on an intercept course.

The entire spying thing was screwed now. There was no way, the humans couldn't see the vessels coming at them.

Captain Alik however, always presumed the worst. "Weapons, get me a firing solution. But do not open fire." The red blocks on the hologram inched closer to their location, turians hot on their tails. One red block disappeared after passing another planet, then the 2nd one.

But as the third unknown vessel neared, Tela came to realize it was an batarian cruiser. It was no worse for wear as it sped towards the location of Sparta.

 _Fucking slavers._ It didn't take a genius to figure out that it who they were, as if the modified vessels and crappy paint configuration didn't make it obvious. Now Tela had to face a new problem.

She was at a dilemma now, shooting at the unknown enemy would reveal the existence of the Phoro-class stealth frigates and could possibly do nothing the cruiser in the progress. But at the same time, leaving a slaver vessel to attack the planet was irresponsible, and would reflect badly on Tela's duty to protect the Citadel Council's citizens.

 _But the humans aren't part the Citadel Council are they?_ Tela smiled. _It would also offer an opportunity to see what they're capable of._

Using her Spectre authority, Tela ordered the bridge crew to…

* * *

 **Sparta Academy of Military Studies**

 **Sparta**

By the time SPARTAN Palmer finished her speech, it was around 21:00, or as everyone else knew it, bedtime. Every cadet was to head to his or her respective dorm areas, and stay there until it was time for bed.

Entering her room, Shepard was greeted to the sight of Sun sitting on her bed, legs swinging. "Hey Shep, did I show you that thing yet?" Taking off her red and black jacket, Shepard folded it in half and laid it on her bed, next to Sun.

"Actually you haven't. What do you wanna show me Sun?" she asked. As if to answer her question, Sun grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to the balcony outside. Shepard did not know how she and Sun got it, but out of all rooms, only those at the ends of the very buildings got balconies and they got it. And once again, Sun showed off her ability to get things , by the telescope outside their balcony. A real, tripod telescope, like the kind you would find in an old-fashioned vid or documentary. It was bronze colored, with a three-foot long scope and the words, _Eye spy_ written in a molten brown across it.

Sliding the door open, Shepard was greeted to the dark, cloudy skies. The stars were faintly visible over the grays of the night.

"Look, look, look." Sun squealed in excitement. "So I was looking through the telescope last week, and I found these new stars and funny thing is, their always moving." Shepard look through the eyepiece, waiting for a blocking cloud to leave… and sure as rain as soon as it passed, there it was, a small white dot, indiscernible from the rest of the night sky's stars.

"Cool Sun." she turned back. "How do you know it's a new star and not just something you missed?"

"What? I look at the stars every night Shepard. Look right there is the Granger Constellation, and over there Prima Octoba Vergo." She pointed to some random stars. "I know what I'm talking about." Shepard could hear the anger in her voice, so she simply rose her hands in defense. She was about to apologize, "I'm not trying to off-".

When the unexpected happened: emergency sirens began to blare throughout the entire campus.

Leonidus, the academy's A.I provided a warning through the building's PAs, "Campus wide alert: All Eirenas report to your sector's armory immediately. All Ageles report to the tether. This is not a drill. Campus wide alert: All Ageles report to-"

Shepard and Sun looked at each other and then into the now busy hallway, where yelling could be heard coming from. This never happened before.

They could hear the pattering of feet, the cries and yells from cadets, as the sectors raced towards the location of the armory. Luckily, the entire dormitory was divided into sections based on class, freshmen got their own section, softmores got their own section, etc.

Joining the cadets in the hallway, Sun and Shepard tried asking the others if they knew anything about what was going on. The answers were all the same: no one had a bloody clue.

At the end of the hall, Instructor Petrovesky yelled at the cadets, "MOVE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! MOVE! MOVE!" Running past her military tactics teacher, Shepard barely noticed the fact that her instructor looked… concerned, almost afraid.

The senior cadets joined the juniors on the trip to the stairs, providing some semblance of order and leadership to those who were frightened at the sudden excitement. Marching down a flight of stairs, Shepard nearly tripped as an anxious cadet pushed her forward.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Turning to get a look at the cadet, Shepard saw it was Kaiden.

"Shepard what's happening?" he asked, water running down from his hair to his face. _Poor guy must have been in the shower._

Shepard nearly tripped on the next step. "I've got no clue" she honestly replied. "But-"

She noticed that Sun was nowhere to be seen, "Where's Sun?" she asked. Looking over the other cadets was slightly impossible due to her height Unfortunately it would have to wait, for her feet made contact with the last floor. The armory doors were straight ahead, she paused though upon the sight of the figure waiting in front of the armory.

Standing there, yelling at cadets to move, was Laura Palmer, or more accurately 'SPARTAN Palmer', for she was donned in her Powered Assault Armor. No longer was she the mortal they saw earlier today, her human fratility now replaced by the icy blue color of her molecular-enhanced armor. Her face was masked by a frosted visor, providing no hint as to the existence of the person beneath. She was a goddess of war, a faceless hero with the single goal of protecting the UNSC and its people, a Spartan.

However, Shepard made another realization upon laying eyes on her. _Wait. That makes no sense_.

 _Why would a Spartan who was only here to give a speech, bring her armor with her?_

That was when Shepard noticed SPARTAN Palmer's choice of armor, it was conveniently the Defender Variant. If Shepard remembered correctly, the Defender was specifically tuned to do just as its name suggests, Defend. Protect. Its features were meant to take advantage of a defensible area, improve combat actuation in urban environments.

Environments like this campus.

Whatever was happening, SPARTAN Palmer had known it was going to happen.

She stepped into the armory and into the large banter of noise as cadets aged 17-18 changed into their gear. She ran past two female cadets who were ahead of everyone, and had already prepared themselves. When she got to her locker, she quickly typed in her six-number password, and was rewarded with the sound of the locker's magnetic locks releasing.

She ripped open that door and began to take out the contents that lay within: a red Battle Dress Uniform with black sections on the inner portion of the legs, sleeves and sides of the torso. There were also two black, armor-plated boots, a ballistic vest, leg and arms guards. And of course, the large, bulky helmet.

Shepard threw off the clothes she was wearing in record time and began putting on her gear. She slid on the uniform, added her armored boots, one by one, she began to look less like a seventeen year old girl and more like a battle-ready soldier of war.

Scanning the Armory, she saw kids her age dressed the same exact way; it was funny to see a small kid try to put on a tactical vest twice his size. Her attention however was stolen by a familiar mechanical sound. She moved besides her locker, towards the seemingly barren wall next to it, where a weapon would be cycled to her from the weapons storage facilities behind the wall. Pressing her hand against a biometric scanner, she was granted access to the weapon locked behind. Most of the time, the weapon cycled to her would be a MA38 loaded with Tactical Training Rounds.

Not this time.

The moment she reached for the handle of the weapon, she was instantly smart-linked to it. According to the HUD, she was now holding an M7/S3 SMG loaded with 5mm caseless ammo. It felt heavy in her hands. Making sure the weapon's safety was on, and that she had enough magazines in her pouches, Shepard exited the Armory.

The entire hallway looked unrecognizable. Gone were the smooth, featureless walls and black-tiled floor, now replaced by the occasional barrier that came from the floor, plus the armed cadets who took cover behind them. The ceiling had a new decoration in the form of two automated sentry gun. Shepard did not know how the specifics of it, but if appearance was anything to go by, it looked like the bridge defenses used on ships. There was enough firepower aimed down the hallway to make a Covenant Zealot pause. The entire hallway was now a killbox, and funny thing was, every hallway in the campus was designed similarly in design way to make an assault by an enemy impossible or so costly that they would be forced to back off.

Rushing to the stairs with a few other cadets, Shepard's HUD notified her to where Onyx Squad was tasked with rendezvousing at: the entrance of the Campus's A.I Core.

Retracing her steps, Shepard ran through corridors, now full of barriers and armed cadets and instructors alike. However her rendezvous was not near the dorms, it was on the other side of the campus.

And as if things couldn't get worse, she could hear the sounds of the base's Anti-Aerial network going off. Kick opening the door, Shepard felt like she jumped in front of a rock concert. Her ears were hurting from the loud buzzing noise as four M71/II Scythes fired a continuous stream of 20mm HEI/AP cartridges at hypersonic speeds. Her eyes had trouble adjusting to whatever target they were aimed at, but from what she could see so far, whatever it was it was big.

 _Hopefully it isn't a Remnant ship._

She sprinted towards the location of the building holding Leonidas's core, her little sight-seeing had cost her a valuable twenty seconds.

Passing the base of tether where evacuations were commencing, Shepard saw the building used for essential equipment, including leonidas's core. "Kaiden" she yelled into her comms mid-sprint. "Where are you?" _Looks like all that running was good for something._

"Right *gasp* behind you." Unfortunately, for Kaiden, he did not do as much running. Turning her head back, she could see Kaiden and two other cadets sprinting alongside him, no doubt the last few members of Onyx Squad. That did not fare well for Shepard's own timing, so she took her speed up a notch.

When Shepard and the last three members of Onyx made it to the entrance of the building of where Leonidas took residence, the hallways were darkened, emergency lights providing the only source of light. Shepard found her entire squad, however, prepping defenses in a single hallway behind a breakroom. Two automated stationary turrets hanged from the ceiling, same model as the one in the armory, floor barriers were also up, and at the very front, a M247T was being manned by Onyx Squad' largest member, Darius "Small" Morris. Contrary to what his nickname may lead some to believe, he was nowhere near small, for a kid of seventeen he stood at an impressive 6'4" and weighed at around 230. Three other members of Onyx stood behind the barriers, saluting to their Squad Leader.

"Ma'am, Leonidas wants to talk to you."

She saluted back before turning to find a PA to talk to, "Whats going on Leonidas? Are we under attack?"

Unknown to Shepard, the glowing blue stripes that ran along the length of the corridor were capable of projecting a 3D hologram. Leonidas, as his name suggested was dressed in the uniform of the ancient Spartan leader, a spear in hand. His voice matched the brutal, manliness of his appearance.

"Since you're finally here Cadet Eirena Shepard, I can authorize the release of non-classified details."

Shepard nodded her head, unsure of where he was going.

"As you know my Scythes aren't exactly shooting at nearby birds." The buzzing could still be heard from within the building. "We are under attack."

The response was mixed, a couple of cadets frowned, two of them cursed under their breath stating that 'They knew it', and the rest were simply silent.

"Is it the remnants?" she asked.

Leonidas tapped his spear against the floor, revealing the hologaphic image of a strange-birdlike spaceship. "Your friend, Cadet Sun, believed she had found a new star while looking through her starviewer six nights ago. Utilizing my own communications array as well as the satellites in orbit, I looked at what she discovered; it was in fact a ship. One that does not resemble the colors of the covenant-"

It all made sense, Leonidas didn't need to say anymore because Shepard already knew what he was going to say. With the realization that there was an unknown, never-before-seen ship hiding over the orbit of Sparta, Leonidas did the only thing he could do, he contacted the "Men upstairs". They responded by sending a defense-orientated Spartan, no doubt to help in the event of an attack, but more as scout then anything. That also meant that there was no doubt a bigger, more specialized force being sent in the event of another First-Contact.

Whatever else Lenoidas was about to say would forever be left unspoken as a large boom interrupted him, followed by another, and another.

Shepard saw his hologram flicker each time, his shield was up as if he was attempting to block an invisible attack. As soon as they stopped tough, he leveled his spear preparing for an attack., "The wall is down, and the skybridge has been attacked! The enemies forces dawn upon us, prepare men!" His hologram disappeared, everyone understood what he was talking about: They were defenseless and whoever was on the tether… was gone..

Onyx Squad instantly took cover behind the barriers, safeties coming off, and weapons hot, pissed off and ready. Shepard knew that regardless of whoever came through those doors, covenant or otherwise, Onyx Squad would not be going down anytime soon.

The building shook as an explosion rocketed through entrance, blowing the doors apart, in the corridor she could see the smoke coming from the main area. Shepard could feel her breath getting faster as she waited for the monsters to come into the hallway like a demon from hell.

Four glowing red eyes was all she needed to see before giving out the order, "Open fire!"

* * *

 **Some things worth noting**

 **-** For those who may be confused, Staff-Sergeant Palmer was a character from the short story "Palace Hotel". Unfortunately due to the lack of background information, I've done my best to create a background for her.

-Sparta does not train Spartans... by that I mean the cadets who train in Sparta are not augmented or related to the SPARTAN program in anyway. They are simply named Spartans due to name of the planet. Do keep that in mind.

-With the influx of new and advanced technology, a codex is in the works and will be released next chapter.

* * *

 **Re: Reviews**

 **Outcast's redeemer: I have no intention of bringing in the reapers... there are bigger threats after all.**

 **Hunter 139: By "Humanity fuck yeah!" I mean exactly what you were suggesting, "[Humanity has]...thousands of frigates and destroyers...[POST WAR]" and "[Pre War] Humanity presumably had tens (if not hundreds of thousands of warships)"? Really man? Last time I checked humanity's ships numbered at around 2000 ships... this is what I mean by "Humanity fuck yeah!". I mean its not your fault, I see many people on this site have all said the same thing, and in turn convinced even more people the same thing, and then they convinced others the... see what I mean. I strive to make my depiction of the UNSC, Covenant, and Citadel Council as realistic as possible (with a little AU thrown into the mix). Nevertheless, thanks for reviewing, I await your next one.**

 **One of the guests: The UNSC isn't being weakened for the sake of the story, that being said, we are only two chapters in the story. :P**

 **Comments? Criticisms? Flames?**


	3. Chapter 3: The Cost

The Cost

* * *

 **Sparta Academy of Military Studies**

 **Sparta**

Shepard wiped the blood off her tactical goggles before pressing down on the trigger of her submachine gun twice… only to receive two empty clicks in return.

 _Fuck._

Shepard grimaced; she had not realized how quickly she had expended all her ammo. Switching for her dad's M6H pistol, the young pony-tailed girl clicked off the safety and began firing off rounds into every alien that she could see. This was not hard considering there were no friendlies down the hall.

Half of her squad and friends were already gone, both ceiling turrets were disabled, and Darius had long since died. The hallway had long since been overrun with hostile aliens both living and dead.

When the aliens first attacked Onyx Squad, Shepard was both frightened and surprised to see so many different aliens fight together… and without weapons. They simply ran towards Onyx in a horde, perhaps they thought they could overtake them with numbers. It was easy picking at first, a couple of well-aimed bursts and they all came crashing down. The large wall of bodies that provided a buffer zone in the hallway supported that.

However, that was fifteen minutes ago. Shortly after the horde was shot down, the real invasion force arrived: four-eyed aliens in combat armor and with advanced kinetic weaponry. Before she knew it, she was down five friends…

"No. Team members" she chided herself. That way of thinking lessened the pain, made the realization that there were five friends, dead or missing all the more easier to handle. Only minutes ago, Shepard saw two of the four-eyed aliens, this time equipped with heavy armor, jump over one of the floor barriers, shocking two of her friends with strange orange-gauntlets before snatching them away. It hurt Shepard to know that she was helpless to stop them, her bullets had reflected off some kind of energy shield and in the end, her helmet was shredded by their weapons... But as soon as she got out of here, she would do whatever she could to get them back.

Until then, she along with the remaining two members of her team, Kaiden included, were stuck in the very room they were tasked with defending.

Taking pot shots from the edge of the door, Shepard turned back just in time for the alien's kinetic rounds to come crashing through the doorway. Releasing the empty mag in her pistol, Shepard yelled for her remaining teammates's status.

"Sound off!"

"Last mag."

" Shep...I'm hit."

The last voice caught her attention. Looking behind her, Shepard froze… _Oh no._ Her face was that of shock, for one of her friend's BDU was completely red, his entire upper leg barely hanging on to the rest of his body by a bare strand of teared tissue and muscle. One of the kinetic rounds the aliens were using must have hit between the unarmored section of the hip and leg. At least he managed to drag himself out of the line of fire.

She pressed down on the trigger twice more, the recoil kicking hard against her shoulder but in exchange two 12.7mm satisfyingly crashed into the heads of two cocky four-eyes who were attempting to run into the room. The results were instanteous, their heads exploded, showering the floor with specks of bone and grey matter.

With the fire dying down, Shepard made her move; racing to the other side of the room, she dropped down to her teammate's level, inspecting what remained of his leg. On appearance alone Shepard began to cringe, the wound was too big for her to effectively do anything to help and by the amount of blood that was spurting unto the floor, and she correctly guessed he was already dead man. So Shepard did the only thing she could do, she grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly and began to comfort him.

"You'll be okay Alex it's just a flesh wound".

Alex only nodded his head before closing his eyes. Shepard could only watch in despair as his grip became weak, before dropping unto the crimson-covered floor.

Shepard held back the tears forming in her eyes and ripped out the dogtag from his neck. The voices around her slowly faded out as she stared into the cold, dead eyes of Alex's face, it was just like the others. Even as Kaiden muffled voice yelled at her to get up, even when the four-eyed aliens jumped into the room and violently grabbed them both, Shepard could not move.

Everyone in Onyx Squad was gone, and in a few moments, they would be too.

It felt like a dying dream.

It all ended though when she looked into the hallway, a bright spot cutting through the crowd of hostile aliens. A blue light awash in a sea of red. The aliens turned around to meet the new threat, only to drop dead to its ever-hateful fury. It was a merciless monster calling for the blood of its foes, for none could live in its presence. Heads exploded, arms were ripped off, and slavers were sent flying into their comrades as the demon tore through their ranks. There was no stopping it, even the aliens holding Shepard shook in fear as they shakily grabbed their weapons, and prepared to fight off the unstoppable force, the real demon in this hell.

However, the fight would never come. For as soon as the demon entered the room, it made the slightest of twitches and the alien's heads exploded like watermelons. Shepard dropped to the ground at the same time her hostage-taker did. She looked up stunned, at the tall figure, sparks from behind illuminating her large profile. It reminded Shepard of the statue in the middle of the campus, symbolic and godlike. Unlike the statue however, this one was very much alive. The SPARTAN simply glanced around, putting the pieces together, before she extended her cold ice-blue arm to Shepard, providing some much-needed comfort.

"You green Cadet?" asked the SPARTAN. Internally, Shepard felt like she could not do it anymore. She just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

Yet, the blue-colored giant refused to let her do so, her voice louder this time as she repeated her question "Cadet? Are. You. Okay?" This time Shepard nodded her head at the giant, and finally taking the hand she rose up.

The SPARTAN nodded her head to Shepard before turning her head to Kaiden, "That's a lot of bodies out there. Where's your squad?"

Kaiden could only point down the hall, "They- They're gone. The aliens killed 'em."

The question echoed in Shepard's mind. _Where's your Squad?_ Shepard remembered the four-eyes taking two of her friends away for god-knows what reason. Maybe they were still alive.

She blinked twice, the anger glowing in her eyes. "Ma'am, the aliens took two members of my squad alive. We need to get them back."

The Spartan simply acknowledged her statement with a nod, before calling out "Leonidas. Where are all the missing cadets?"

For the longest minute, it seemed like the reply would never come. But to the relief of those in the room, the shimmering hologram of an ancient Spartan appeared in front of the modern Spartan, spear to rifle. Man to demon.

"They bring our men to their skyship, for what purpose I remain unaware. But worry not dear Spartans, reinforcements have arrived-

The SPARTAN rose her hand to silence the ghostly warrior. "I gotcha Leonidas. Cadets, we've got ODSTs dropping in, they'll likely find your friends. Every position in the campus is being overrun, I need you two to stay put here."

Shepard began to argue "But ma'am our defenses are down, we have nearly no cover. If anyone comes here, we're screwed. "

The SPARTAN remained silent, listening carefully to the nervous cadet as she attempted to convince her to come with them. _Would these two kids really be safe here? It was a hell of a risk. Or would they be better off tagging along with her? Did it really matter? They survived this long without any outside help._

Raising her hand to silence them once more, SPARTAN Palmer asked "How much ammo do you two have?"

Both cadets looked at each other before shrugging. "None ma'am."

The answer to the issue was obvious, SPARTAN Palmer searched through the corpses of the four-eyed aliens until she picked up what looked like two blocky-looking assault rifles. After a moment of hesitation, her advanced Heads Up Display was linked to the weapon, catching her off guard. Instead of showing an ammo counter as she expected, her HUD displayed a heat counter. _That explains the lack of buttons, there's not really a clip to be inserted in… but then how does it fire…_?

She pressed on the trigger of both weapons, watching as the two-heat counters rose the slightest. The weapons had surprisingly little recoil for its configuration and size, and compared to the damage it did to the wall on the other side of the hall, she had expected some kind of trade-off with accuracy. Yet she was wrong once again, as the three-round burst from the weapon found its mark on a spot on a wall one hundred feet down range. Guess it could be said that it was cleared from her suspicions.

While it was definitely superior to the common MA5D, the weapon, to which SPARTAN Laura Palmer took to calling a "Vindicator", had nothing on her personal choice of armament: two SPARTAN Armory M-series pistols. The Materials Group hadn't found an official name for it, but all she had to know was that it fired hella big rounds.

Two weapons in hand she turned to ask the cadets a question "You two know how to fire a rifle?"

Both cadets nodded as an alien weapon was thrown into their hands.

"These weapons have heat counters, so make sure to fire in short bursts. Cadet, pick a helmet from one of your comrades, they won't need it."

Rearmed and ready for combat, the two kids quickly regained their composure as their doubt faded away with the realization that they had a Spartan backing them. In less than a minute, they were all running out the building and into the battlefield outside.

* * *

 **CSV Elasa's Song**

 **Orbiting Sparta**

Tela Vasir watched from a vidscreen as the slaver's cruiser lay siege to the human's militarized complex. She was honestly expecting to see a little more from the humans, where were the ships? Tela was still trying to her head around that, there was an orbital elevator right above the planet... yet no ships? In Citadel Space an orbital elevator could be affordable by only the wealthiest of colonies, and they were almost always surrounded by trading and cargo ships.

Tela frowned when the vidscreen's view to that of the slaver cruiser. The slaver's were using the short range pulse-defense system, usually reserved for anti-fighter combat, as some sort of artillery weapon, destroying heavily fortified positions around the campus with intense bursts of infrared energy. On the ground though, the action was much more intense, shuttles swarmed out of the sides of the slaver cruiser like angry bees out of a hive.

She knew it was not her place to support either side, but secretly Tela wanted the humans to destroy the slavers. They were a shit stain on galactic society, a parasite to everything they touched. Honestly, had this planet not had people and were this not a reconnaissance mission Tela would have no problem with ordering the turians to obliterate the ship off the face of the galaxy. Better yet, she would happily torture them and the pyjak who sold out this mission. Her thoughts were interrupted though as the bridge's sensor operator cried for her attention.

"Ma'am! We have a proximity alert, contacts right above the planet. There are two… no three warships. Two cruiser analogues of which are on approach vector." Like the human freighters Tela always saw near the planet, these ships too came out of nowhere in strange white portals, "slipspace" as the human captive called it. How it worked was beyond her, but he did say something about punching holes through space.

Captain Alik thoughts however were on a different matter. She stared at the sensors operative with suspicion "With who?"

His hands danced around the orange keyboards as he began to form a conclusion. "Our ship."

Captain Alik Latex, while not one to argue with professionals at their own job, was hesitant to believe that the aliens knew about their ship's location. They had spent six months here with no discernible change in the human's activities, now suddenly the humans found the location of this ship? That was preposterous.

"Officer, is our stealth systems not engaged?" asked Alik angrily. There was no way that the military ships had known of their existence, yet the turian never took his eyes off the radar in front of him. There was no doubt about it; they were 2000kms away and nearing.

"Captain I recommend we leave before they intercept us."

Spectre Vasir stood behind the incompetent Captain, weighing down the possibilities. If the ships were on an intercept course as the officer suggested they were, then they would no doubt shoot at the frigate and pick out the technology and navigation databases from the wreckage. At least that is what Tela would do if she were a human captain… unfortunately, she was on the receiving end and at the rate Captain Alik was arguing, they would no doubt never be able to make a decision.

Once again deciding to use her Spectre Authority, Tela ordered Captain Alik to relay to all Council Vessels in space a General Retreat order. As if on cue, the turian operating the sensors cried out to Alik's surprise.

"Mass Accelerator fire from Alpha-1! Impact o-one minute." The turian hesitantly stated.

"Mass accelerator fire from Alpha-2. Inbound... one minute?" The turian's well-disciplined behavior was the only thing preventing him from turning around to look at the Spectre in confusion.

 _One minute? But we're only… maybe their mass accelerator technology isn't as advanced as we thought._ "Guess we over stayed our welcome boys. Drop our stealth systems and focus all power to getting us to the system's relay. Tell the other Phoros' frigates to do the same, I want everyone coming out of this in one piece.-"

Captain Alik meanwhile stood with silent rage, tired of the bloody Spectre ordering _her_ crew. "Listen this is my-"

The Spectre simply tilted her head, not even bothering to face the female captain directly, a gesture of disrespect in turian culture. "You sure you wanna go down the authority route Captain?"

The Captain stuttered, her mandibles wide open in disbelief. "I… I-"

Tela Vasir turned to reface the display showing the two warships route of interception. Her face made the faintest of smiles. "Bridge I wanted us out of here last cycle" she said while crossing her arms. Each crewmember worked quickly in their workstations, orange holograms flickering on and off as everyone coordinate the ship's exit strategy.

The _Elasa's Song_ lurched forward, its thrusters reorienting the ships as to face the direction of the nearby system's Mass Relay and its nearby compliment of turian warships. Slowly the Phoro-Class frigates stealth systems were disengaged, compromising their existence to the rest of the galaxy. Blue exhaust flew out of over sixteen thrusters, launching four stealth frigates at insane speeds past stellar debris.

And thus the hunt began.

The two human warships that had fired on the _Elasa's Song_ , were now giving chase to the small group of nimble stealth vessels. Opting to close the distance and cripple the vessels with a handful of missiles, the two _Strident-Class Heavy frigates_ let loose their Deuterium fusion engines. While the _Phoro-class_ vessel was nowhere near as armored or armed as the human warships, the Citadel vessel did have one advantage that its predators did not, speed. _Elasa's Song,_ like other ships of its class were designed around the concept of covertly spying over an enemy for long periods of time _and_ leaving as quickly and quietly as possible. This was why Council Scientists had worked so hard to provide an effective way of providing the stealth frigates with the ability to make quick FTL jumps at the cost of distance per jump.

But it didn't really matter when the Relay system they had to jump to was in a near-by system, only two light years away.

Disappearing in a flash of blue, the Elasa's Song along with the other three vessels of its class would exit near the long-elongated tuning fork shape of the Mass Relay. To most, the system seemed empty save for two Gas Giants and a few stray asteroids. On closer inspection of the asteroids however, one would see three fusion torches hammered on to them and in fourteen-turian warships that hid in the orbit of the nearest gas giant.

Unfortunately, for their pursuers, by the time the two Strident-class frigates had discovered the location of the mass relay, the Council Expeditionary Force would have already been long since gone. The only clue to their existence being the device they left behind: a giant, mysterious tuning fork shaped device that would soon mark the coming of a new age... and the awakening of evils long since dormant.

* * *

 **UNSC Say my name**

 **Above orbit of Sparta**

"Hell's Waiting Room." That is what everyone knew it by.

Yet no one really understood what that really meant. That was until you were dropping from above the atmosphere of a war-torn planet in what amounted to a 1,100kg metal coffin; with nothing but a couple of inches of ceramic plating and a coat of stealth paint between you and a fiery death by entering the atmosphere at speeds past terminal velocity. That was of course, without including the possibility of being shot down by anti-aircraft weaponry, life-support issues, or a mechanical failure that led to your likely painful and terrible death.

But for the brave men and women who sat, waiting in the Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles, death was simply another location they would be dropping in feet first into hell. And with each "transorbital support interdiction", their life expectancy dropped but so was the consequence of being a Helljumper.

For the Orbital Drop Shock Trooper in Entry Vehicle 90A12-57H-012 however, death was the least of his concerns. As the bay doors of Hell's Waiting room slid away, the man in the pod took out a tiny picture of his life's remaining love. Unfortunately, he would miss the view of the exposed surface of the planet underneath. Black clouds drifted ever so slowly over the bare green mass, the occasional yellow spot of lightning marking one of the many storms that covered the disturbed surface.

Yet under all of that, would they find the school fighting back against the alien ship? Or would the aliens already be packing, leaving with whatever they had came for?

He would find out soon enough as his thoughts were punctuated by a voiced countdown. He took in a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for the combat he would likely be facing underneath the clouds. A quick glance of the person in his picture reminded him of the reason he was here, why he was fighting.

" **Five."**

" _Troopers! Intel down below is reporting that the X-rays down below own the ground. Half of them are amassing beneath their ship, apparently they've been taking every kid they could find and stuffing them into shuttles."_

" **Four."**

That meant their timetable was accelerated, the man checked the plan again.

" **Three."**

There were about ten teams of six ODSTs each, five of them would be crashing into the ship from above as to work their way down and neutralize the enemy's command. To ensure a quick and easy entry, the UNSC _Say my name_ would fire a couple of well-timed M42 archer missiles that would weaken the hull of the ship. This of course would allow for teams to infiltrate the most likely areas of the bridge's location.

" **Two."**

Two teams were tasked with securing a landing zone for the _Say my name_ , and finally, like his team, the remaining three would be inserted around key locations around the base to sweep for any pockets of resistance.

" **One."**

The countdown ended and the man's pod was released. He grabbed tightly to his crash seat, as the pod's rocket thrusters activated. Barely audible thuds could be heard as the pods around him repeated similar motions. He felt like his stomach was churning and moving throughout his entire body as his drop pod accelerated down to the mess below. Peeking through the pod's windows, he watched as dozens of black pods like his swarmed around him. The cloud layer zipped closer and closer.

After ten seconds, he watched thirty of the drop pods activated their side thrusters and adjusted their trajectory to that of the alien ship.

The ODST could only watch in horror as one by one, communication with the drop pods were cut off. Other ODSTs began yelling in distress, something about the ship firing off lasers at the pods. It would end though when a handful of M42 Archer Missiles impacted with the ship, cracking the hull like a tin can. Despite the fact it destroyed the ships defenses, it do little to reverse the damage already done.

Only forty-four ODSTs would be landing alive.

Yet it was nothing compared to the mess down below, for the Sparta Academy of Military Science lay in shambles. Multiple buildings suffered catastrophic damage from the alien frigate's pulse lasers, some of the walls still red and hot from the intense-energy burst.

The orbital elevator had also taken a hit from the alien frigate, its support anchors barely distributing the weight equally; it was a large-scale environmental disaster waiting to happen.

And that was just scratching the surface.

Bodies littered the Academy's grounds, where students and teachers alike fought valiant, last stands against an outnumbering force. Blue and yellow tracers flashed back and forth between buildings, the occasional smoke contrail identifying the use of a rocket launcher on a soft target's position. What was meant to be used for tanks, was instead now used on the most heavily armored slavers of the _Verush's last [bitch]_ , and the results were never disappointing. Body parts flew across the ground, rolling and only coming to a stop from forty feet away. Yet these small victories would come at a cost as other slavers realized the threat posed by its firer, and subsequently obliterated that portion of cover with hundreds of mass accelerator rounds.

Before they could continue firing on the building though, loud booms sounded off from high up the sky, distracting them long enough for the remaining cadets to garrison fire.

One by one, the familiar booms and flashing lights could be heard and seen throughout the campus, providing a brief moment of relief to those who recognized the sound; and confusion to those who did not. Cascading lights of red and yellow created a chaotic show of color in the dark, rainy sky, and before anyone knew it the lightning hit.

With a large whirring sound, each drop pod fired its under-thrusters, slowing the descent to manageably tolerable levels of safety. Retrieving their respective weapons, each ODST prepared themselves for the inevitable, the familiar sound of pressure release as the pod's gas-bolted doors exploded open. Across the campus, batarians and other aliens alike were caught off guard at the sudden arrival of the black devices.

Twelve batarians would be simultaneously killed by exploding pod doors.

Out of the abyss-colored pods, forty-four mean, pissed off ODSTs would jump out, weapons at the ready. ODST doctrine stated within that whatever a unit accomplished during its "golden hour" on the ground would have a disproportionate effect on the outcome of the mission, however, what very few seemed to realize was that was the "long-term" plan. For in the very first three seconds of landing, the actions an ODST choose would determine whether they would become another number on a casualty report or the worst nightmare of the enemy for the short remainder of their lives.

In the case of the ODST in drop pod 90A12-57H-012, the latter would be the outcome.

Following the mysterious introduction, three batarians circled around the strange black-colored device that had crashed on the grass. With a loud hiss, the drop pod's door exploded outward, killing a batarian slaver who was a little too curious. The two surprised batarians nearby never stood a chance as they were set ablaze by "Dragon's Breath". Two incendiary rounds quickly burned through their ablative plates, paving the way for the 3000 'F shards to cook the people underneath.

Blocking out the stench of seared flesh, the ODST scanned the open area for any more hostiles. Finally noticing the strangely humanoid figure that the aliens he just killed had. Had they wore full-enclosing helmets; the ODST would have likely hesitated and fired too lately. Besides the mutated looking faces of the aliens, he was virtually looking at what could have passed for some kind of sub-human; a group of humans who may have been exposed to too much radiation or strange environmental factors and subsequently underwent a weird growth and change in body physiologically.

Too bad.

His attention back to the mission he continued scanning the surrounding area. Fortunately, (or unfortunately depending on whose point of view one was looking at) the surrounding area was empty, save for the sole statue in the middle of the courtyard. The ODST looked up, recognizing the figure's iconic appearance to be that of " _The Spartan",_ except that the statue featured damage in the form of bullet holes across its chest, a crack through the entirety of its visor.

The ODST shook his head, slinging his HK47 "Storm" Tactical Shotgun on his shoulder. _The aliens most have been trying to degrade the statue noticing its symbolic importance_ he realized. Yet like any other statue of _The Spartan_ it stood proud, triumphant despite the fact it was surrounded by a group of murderous, disrespectful aliens.

He clicked on his VISR mode before his helmet alerted him to his mission's objectives. With a quick motion of his eyes, the helmet detected the gesture and responded by opening up the mission content folder.

 _Mission perimeters updated-_

 _-SPARTAN Callsign: Autumn Actual, has taken operational command of Fireteam Maverick._

 _-Maverick has been ordered to head towards this location immediately._

The ODST blinked hard at that, _a SPARTAN? Here_?

Clicking off the mission content folder, the ODST began sprinting to towards a new marker displayed on his Organic Light Emitting Diode (OLED) coated screen. Shotgun in hand, the ODST entered the surrounding structure and passed through the empty, militarized halls, the sounds of nearby firefights echoing everywhere he went, yet he couldn't see anyone. As he closed in the distance to the marker, the ODST heard the recurring roar of MA5Es through the desolate corridor. He could also see five friendly tags and the objective marker on the motion sensor.

Turning the corridor, he found himself facing down the barrel of a MA5E, a small, teenage girl shakily holding it. From behind, three kids in body armor fired at the end of the corridor at downed X-rays, and another cadet sat back against the wall… missing his right arm. Turning around to see why his friend stopped firing, one of the cadets stumbled back, surprised at the sight of the ODST. He quickly regained his senses and rested his hand on the scared cadet's shoulder. Calmed by the act of comfort, she hesitantly lowered her weapon.

"Guys look, ODSTs."

The ODST simply looked at displayed identities of the team:

 _NA/Cadet Kaiden Alenko_

 _NA/Cadet Kika Thornton_

 _NA/Cadet Winston Grueth_

 _NA/Cadet Namarie Theron_

 _NA/Cadet Alex Mckeown_

He scanned the crowd of tired, grim faces before stopping at the last one. He recognized that face anywhere, but just to make sure he looked at the name and then the face of the young red-headed girl. Her bright blue eyes looked just like her mothers.

 _Oh thank god,_ he sighed out of relief.

As much as he would like to take off his helmet and give his little girl a hug, but the ODST knew that would be the stupidest mistake one could make in an active combat zone. So instead, he opted to remain as an anonymous ODST, and lead to the kids to a safer area.

"How much ammo do you all have?" he suddenly asked, his voice coming out synthesized. His daughter looked at the kid, Kaiden Alenko before looking at the ODST.

"We're good… sir. SPARTAN Palmer said one of you guys will help us?"

The ODST simply nodded to his oblivious daughter, noticing the blood that covered her black uniform. "Pack your shit. I'm bringing you kids to a evac zone we should be done setting up. Did the SPARTAN give you any other instructions?"

"No sir! She told us to stay put, that back up would be arriving for pick up."

The ODST immediately opened his Squad comms, telling his fellow badass brethren to meet up along the way.

With a gesture of his hands, the kids began to move through the hallway. Despite the fact that the five of them were made up of three different Squads, they worked together as if they had been doing so for years. All the training was coming into to play as hall by hall, five cadets under the age of eighteen and a veteran ODST cleared room by room, only pausing when the ODST ordered them to.

Changing into the VISR's mission content folder, the ODST once again viewed his updated objectives.

 _Mission Parameters updated-_

 _-ODSTs have secured the command bridge of the enemy ship_

 _-Remaining enemy forces are now in disarray, Do Not terminate remaining enemy personal, bring alive for interrogation. Failure to follow this order will result in immediate questioning._

 _-Marines will secure the following facilities_

 _-Recover any pieces of xeno-technology for study. Failure to follow this order will result in immediate questioning._

 _-Cadets will escort themselves to the proper evacuation zones_

The ODST stopped to reread the entire update: it did not make any damn sense. The original objective was to ensure the safety of the cadets and to ensure that the aliens did not retrieve anything else of importance. Now they entire mission changed to a bloody capture-recover mission.

 _This is BS._

He thought back on the leadership, he personally knew the Company Commander, and there was no way in hell he would change the mission. The ship's Captain didn't have Operational Command so that left…

The ONI Lieutenant who they picked up at Carraway Station. He slammed the wall near him with rage, catching the attention of the whole group.

There is no way he would be leaving his daughter alone, not while there were still a large number of hostiles around the campus. He opened a comline straight to the Company leader, Commander Jon Grissom, who was supposed to be on the other side of the campus.

"Maverick Actual to Overlord Actual, requesting permission to continue with student evacuation efforts."

" _Denied Maverick. Proceed with current objective."_

The ODST rose his left hand to where his ear was under his helmet, "Sir this a bullshit call. I have five campus personal with me, they won't last out there if there are any hostiles remaining."

" _*pause* Proceed with current objectives Maverick actual. How you get to your objective is left to you, if it happens to be on the same route as the campus personal with you… I trust you'll make the right decision. Overlord out."_

And with that, the Company Commander cut the line. The ODST nodded his head, opening the SquadCOM and ordering his entire team to meet up on his position. In less than a minute, four blue spots blinked on motion sensor and with it, came four ODSTs clad in their black ODST/Nightfall-series armor. With a mechanical whir from their armors servo-motors they came to stop, surrounding the cadets in a protective escort. Each was armed with the latest in weapons technology, M739 SAWs.

No one would be getting past the escorts anytime soon.

With a wave of the hand, the entire group exited the building from the door pointed towards the evacuation zone. Unfortunately there was a problem.

Two hundred meters past the building's exit was the evacuation area: a small, two-story building with three landing pads and a single team of ODSTs who were coordinating the evacuation effort. Between that? Nothing but two hundred meters of open terrain, with two long buildings on either side providing a superior sniping position.

The perfect set up for an ambush.

The Mavericks noticed that too, so with the assistance of the cadets they came up with a simple plan. Two ODSTs would sprint to the other building, acting as rabbits in the event there were any X-rays on either side of the building. Cadets would identify and fire on any aliens, and then they would run while the ODSTs on the other side provided cover. Then two more ODSTs would sprint to the evacuation as rabbits and vice versa. This would go on till there was only Maverick Actual and his daughter were left.

Everything was quiet until it was their turn, then by just some chance of bad luck, the X-rays opened fire. Had the ODST been wearing the standard Mk117 body armor and gear, the kinetic rounds would have likely killed the man underneath from blunt force trauma alone. Luckily, the Nightfall armor was designed around ensuring the wearer's survivor, it was meant to protect the user from not only high-caliber impacts but also a non-direct strike from a covenant energy weapon. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the young girl next to him, who had warned the team that most direct hits from the X-ray weaponry would shred conventional body armor if not kill the soldier underneath, explaining how one of the cadets had lost his arm.

With speed only an ODST (or SPARTAN) could achieve, he grabbed his daughter and put the full size of his body around her, trying to shield her from the hypervelocity ammunition of the X-ray's infantry weapons. With each impact, he could feel the location of where a bruise would be forming soon. Two kinetic rounds impacted right above his calf, penetrating through the undersuit underneath and turning the back of his leg into hamburger meat. The ODST fought against his instinct to reach for his wounded area, instead focusing on trying to cover the red-headed girl to the best of his ability.

Despite all four ODSTs letting loose their Squad Automatic Weapons, Maverick Actual continued to feel impact after impact crash against his armor, desperately trying to seek purchase within. He could not move, and if he let his daughter move, she would surely be torn apart by the wave of kinetic rounds.

For the longest time, the ex-marine turned ODST thought he was going to die. Right there, right now. The situation was hopeless. It was also ironic; the door was less than twenty meters away.

An ear-shattering roar would cut through his thoughts, turning to find its origin; he would relief in the form of a giant blue blur thirty meters away.

His eyes had trouble figuring out its shape as it cut the distance between itself and him in under a second. He felt the wave of bullets stop as the four-eyed aliens desperately fired on the newcomer. It seemingly weaved through the fire, none of the bullets ever hitting the ghostly figure. In turn though, the entire upper bodies of the aliens disappeared in a gory explosion from .50 caliber HEAP rounds. Even those with kinetic barriers were not impervious to the highly volatile rounds as their shields and bodies were subsequently destroyed by ammo used against vehicles.

A dozen roars sounded off right above his head and before he knew it, the firing stopped. As soon as it ended, he tried to move but find that he could not. Maverick Actual tried to talk but found himself wheezing, soon he was coughing up blood, spraying his transparent visor with a tint of red. Feeling his daughter underneath him slide his body off, he tried to yell but with each effort his breathing became harder. A glance to the right of his visor showed an icon of his body, his torso and upper right leg highlighted in red.

His lungs were punctured.

His right leg was nothing but a large mess of torn muscle and bone.

Maverick Actual felt someone pick him up, hands underneath his back and legs as they lift him up as if it was nothing. The only person who could casually lift a person in his semi powered exoskeleton like that was a SPARTAN. With all his effort, the ODST looked up and found himself face-to-face (or more accurately, helmet-to-helmet) with a SPARTAN in a ice-blue Defender-Variant armor; her face hidden behind a non-reflective, frosty, silver visor.

He blinked once and suddenly found himself looking not at the SPARTAN anymore but a field medic. Time was moving forward with or without him. He could see her typing something into a wrist-mounted TACPAD, before his helmet depressurized. He struggled to breathe as the helmet was taken off his head with a gentleness he had not expected.

Time felt like it was getting slower.

The moment the helmet was off, the medic looked down at him with sad, brown eyes.

That seemingly meaningless gesture was all he needed to understand what was happening.

He was not going to be making it out of here alive.

Despite the fatally large amount of blood in his lungs and massive blood loss, he turned his head with a final renowned effort, seeking for a single person in the crowd of people. Blurred figures walked back and forth, doing things he could not really see or hear. They were on some kind of makeshift landing pad where multiple medics were providing as much support as they could. A lot of kids lied in their own pools of blood, faces blank. There were voices coming from everywhere. The scene was unclear until he found the sole person he had been searching for: a young girl, no older then seventeen. She was talking with someone from the other side of the landing pad. It took a moment before she noticed someone was looking at her and turned to look at him. Her bright blue eyes looked just like her mothers.

He tried to tell his daughter that he loved her, that he was sorry for all of this, him leaving now, that he couldn't save her mom all those years back. But lips could barely form an inaudible "Jane".

He could feel the tears running through his eyes. No child should live in this universe without parents, without someone who would love them. She'd be all alone once he left and that hurt more then anything else he ever experienced in his life.

Gunnery Sergeant David Shepard would never get the chance to apologize, his last, sad breath spent looking at the beautiful face of his daughter, Jane Shepard.

What he last saw was perfection.

What she saw were the same dead eyes as the others.

* * *

 **Codex/Technology/Ships/Phoro-Class_Stealth_Frigate**

Following the deaths of nearly two hundred-thousand citizens during the Theseus Incursion and the subsequent removal of the Batarian's Embassy, the military leaders of the Citadel Council themselves had come to realize the dire need for a deep scout craft capable of investigating unstable regions and returning to Council Space quickly enough to provide a warning of whatever hostilities may reside in a certain area of space.

Optimized for covert, reconnaissance missions, the Phoro-class features state-of-the-art stealth technology in the form of an advanced IES (Internal Emission Sink) system. For centuries, it was assumed that starship stealth was impossible. The heat generated by routine shipboard operations is easily detectable against the near absolute zero background temperature of space. The Phoro-class stealth frigate, however, is able to temporarily "store" this heat in diamond-lithium heat sinks deep within the hull, allowing it to avoid detection.

There are limitations to the stealth system of course, any visual scan will reveal the ship. However, this is rare since most ships rely on scanners rather than visual contact and of course, considering the large berth of space, searching for a hundred and twenty meter ship is just obviously difficult. A Phoro-class stealth frigate is capable of becoming 'as cold as interstellar space' for around 2-3 days, or drift passively through a system for weeks before having to vent and give away her position.

All of this of course, is impossible without the "oversized" Tantalus Drive Core. The Tantalus drive generates mass concentrations allowing a Phoro-class to move without the use of heat-emitting thrusters. This allows a Phoro-class to not only move quietly in interstellar space, but means that it can run at FTL speeds for much longer and if necessary make multiple FTL jumps in a short period of time without the possibility of frying the electronics (or people) onboard.

Like all frigates, a Phoro-class vessel is equipped with GARDIAN point defense lasers, kinetic barriers, and a spinal mass accelerator cannon.

 **ONI_External_Access_Network/Organization/Material_Group/Special_Projects/Spartan_Armory**

In response to the development of the MJOLNIR GEN2 Project, the Office of Naval Intelligence's Materials Group division has been working tirelessly on a weapons program that would allow for the introduction of new and advanced Spartan-orientated weaponry. Due to physiological difference between a Spartan supersoldier and a barely augmented, much less normal human being, the Materials Group has been made aware of the advantages posed by Spartans, who are capable of carrying heavier and deadlier weapons then the average soldier.

In an effort to exploit that advantage, the Watershed Division has created a new series of experimental weapons, designed with "making the elimination of equal target profiles" more easier than the standard small arms used by marines. Examples of course include, hypervelocity small arms, chemical-railguns, electro thermal projectors, "smartguns", and more powerful explosives; weapons that would leave most men with shattered arms or accidentally dead.

As of current UNSC standard, the Spartan Armory remains to be one of the most costly SPARTAN-related endeavors funded by ONI.

* * *

 **Re: Reviews**

 **Outcast Redeemer : I really liked your suggestion and I must thank you for helping me realize that little plot hole. Hopefully it has now been taken care of, :) . Now on to the main subject: The timetable was left out for some rather simple reasons. At the very beginning of this story, I had no clue as to what exact time this story would take place. But that was before, now though... As for Planetary Defense, see Corbulo Academy of Military Science. And as for the increase of capitol ships, I would also suggest reading "Hunters in the Dark" to see what happened to the UNSC's Home Fleet. Yes ships will be produced, but to think that they'll be popping out Capitol ships like its no one's business? Thats a nono, especially when you consider the fact that a majority (not all) of the industrial infrastructure was likely destroyed during the Human-Covenant War. If you have any other info that you would care to share, Id be more then happy to update my story accordingly.**

 **Haywire Eagle : After rereading the 2nd chapter I've taken into account of the lack of military jargon. I will attempt to involve more in the near future. As for the problem with "not being seen... having thumbs up their butts", I will ask you to please take out a telescope and to look into the sky and find me as any communications satellites as you possible. Kinda hard right? How about you see if you can find the International Space Station, it has large solar panels running across the sides making it easier to find. If you can find it, cool. Then I suggest imagining trying to find an object just barely bigger and with less of a reflective surface area. **

**Randomreader : Thanks for the review, following all the reviews I thought for a moment that I failed to explain my story in a readable manner. **

**Commissar** **Critical : I hope you continue to enjoy it later on too. :)**

 **Fer82 : You are right about the heat discharge, and if you read my codex you'll notice that its two-three days worth of stealth time. That in itself is not a lot, hence the reason there are four of them, while one or two may be discharging heat in a nearby system, the others continue their spying and then switch.** **Why would you have anti-stealth countermeasures when you're unaware of being tagged? They had no reason to believe a group of stealth frigates were observing until one week ago.** **Nevertheless, I feel your reviews tend to be a good summary of what others are thinking. So I ask that you continue to review and that if you notice any errors, please do say so.**

 **Coffee Muncher : I hope the codex satisfies your query. It can be pretty much shortened to, an "overcharged-normandy class ship with a larger focus on speed and with the graceful aesthetic style the asari ships use. So imagine a much more fluid, curved design to everything. A battlegroup around a Military Academy near the other colonies? Ummm... Suggest looking at Corbulo Academy of Military Science. As for ship numbers (and I have discussed this with Halo fans who know more then this about me) and they all agree the UNSCs ships numbered at around 2000 pre-war. Post-war I believe there are like two battlegroups, Dakota and some other one I forgot. But do remember that the group sent to destroy Truth's keyship in halo 3 consisted of a mere three frigates. And that the covenant were pretty much everywhere on Earth before then including "Antarctica, Cuba, Africa and Australia"**

 **freeleadforall: If you expect to see some kind of Alternate Past Uncertain Future II UNSC supa-blitzkreig of an introduction then you've chosen the wrong story. :P**

 **I apologize if I didn't explain it well enough, but the former Sparta Academy of Military Studies is in no way related to the SPARTAN-Program, kids are no longer used in the program. The reason it was called Sparta was in honor of the SPARTANS.**

 **Comments? Criticisms? Flames?**


	4. Chapter 4: Protocol takes precedence

After losing over a hundred pages worth of material, as well as having to redo this exact chapter three times due to file loss... I am finally back on track (Thank God).

If you notice any, grammatical mistakes, story errors or just have some good ol' fashion advice... by all means comment.

* * *

" _You asked me what I believe. I believe in completing my mission at all costs. I believe great threats require great sacrifices. From the beginning, Spartans were a weapon of last resort. We were built for combat… and raised for war. Spartans never die but the equipment can be replaced. My life was always an evolving lie. Now I've made my choice. MY path is clear."_

-Chief Petty Officer Spartan 117 speaking after the death of Cortana

* * *

 ** _Diary of Jane Shepard- 10.13.2559_**

\\\BEGIN ENTRY

Six weeks.

Thirty-nine days to be exact.

Since Sparta.

Four hundred and seven.

That's how many died at the school.

Sixty campus personal.

Two hundred seventy three cadets.

Thirty four ODSTs. Including my father.

Forty Marines.

Yet after all this time, I can still see their faces. My dad's face.

What was he thinking in his final moment?

Two hundred and sixteen confirmed aliens.

Fifty various robotic combat platforms.

Eighty seven various alien "slaves".

Sixty four "batarians".

Only fifteen captured.

Was it worth it?

I can still see their faces.

In the dark.

In my nightmaes.

SAVE ENTRY/

* * *

From: Operative Kleanu

To: Operative Vasir

Subject: (Council C17x- P3) Human

Kleanu: The broker requests analysis of humans

Vasir: Can you be a little more specific?

K: Technology, war industry, capabilities, prisoner…

V: They represent a minor threat at best. Information recovered from the mind of human prisoner (File Attached: C1007x-P3-NS) has revealed their military capabilities and little over recent history. The prisoner, along with nineteen other humans (four related) were recovered from an unidentified vessel on the outskirts of the colony Vatu. From what I understood, they are the first species to originate from the Dark Arm of our Galaxy. The species the prisoner was a part of was attempting to find a new home after a large war, one that I only had a small glimpse of. After failing to respond to the colony's perimeter warnings, a turian frigate was authorized to disable the vessel with a tactical pulse strike from its GARDIAN Pulse Array. Unfortunately, the strike to its engines resulted in chain explosion that instantly killed nineteen of the humans, leaving four in a critical injury state. Three would later die from their injuries onboard a hospital ship and one human (the prisoner) would be the only one to make a full recovery.

STG Operatives would later appear to investigate the sudden arrival of the new species and provide the means to translate the alien's language through an "informal interview". Council diplomats soon arrived in an attempt to speak with the human. It was met with violent aggression (likely stemming from the informal interview) resulting in the injury of one asari diplomat and an attempted escape. Despite our best attempts to defuse the situation and attempt peaceful conversation with the "human", results were always met with an unexpected and extreme violence. With no other options at hand, he was forcibly subdued and placed into an isolation cell.

While the prisoner was being interrogated, Council Scientists were investigating the wreckage of the human ship. Two Hierarchy Scrapers' discovered the ship's FTL drive (We know it was an FTL drive because the human identified it as so after a little "diplomacy"), along with other unimportant human equipment in the wreckage. Unfortunately, the research ship that was attempting to analyze the ship disappeared in a large radiation-filled explosion that resulted in the disappearance of the ship and its crew. Attempts to probe information of the FTL drive from the prisoner were… fruitless.

K: With the death of the human prisoner. We assume there was other knowledge retained.

V: Yes, the mind melds I did on the human were not consented or authorized by the Council. However, it was necessary due to his lack of cooperation. To prevent any political fallout, I staged an escape that made it seem like the prisoner was planning since his imprisonment, subdued him and ultimately force melded with him, he survived the process long enough for me to gain an adequate amount of knowledge of his life and experiences.

K: How will his species respond to the recent attack on their colony?

V: Analysts and xeno-sociologists predict that they will likely respond with a large warfleet and attempt to backtrack the location of the Phoro-class vessels through the usage of the Mass Relays. I disagree. They are more likely to send reconnaissance ships around the galaxy, using their FTL drives to find populated planets _around_ mass relays and recon them from afar. They are a cautious species, slow to trust. I expect them to introduce themselves by directly visiting one of these planets after investigating our civilization long enough… or they'll attempt strategic military strikes if they deem us hostile enough.

K: The last answer was most concerning, what has led you to believe this?

V: They have been in some war spanning tens of solar cycles. I only have small glimpses of the war, images and the emotions that come with them. Planets turned into black glass, land turned into ash. Entire cities lain to siege, people dying in droves to lances of reptilian aliens, some having their limbs cut apart by blindingly bright flashes. I can feel the angst, fear, the hopelessness as a large ship, bigger than anything I have ever seen, lays siege to a city. I also feel the anger that comes with the images of other human soldiers, but I do not understand why. The damage and war seems similar to the memories passed on to me by a matriarch's memories of the Rachni War. And if its anything like that... well... pursuing diplomacy would be our best option.

K: What are the contingency plans in preparation for the human's appearance?

V: The turians have deployed a single fleet in Relay 314's system in the event they come through that specific area. Two turian battlegroups are always on standby and within a single jump-distance away. The salarians of course, have likely assigned numerous spycraft and STG Operatives to the Dark Arm. But rumor has it that half of the ships have completely gone off grid. Unknown to all but the highest of Citadel leadership, the Commandoes and Matriarchs of War have already been deployed to the last known locations of the missing STG.

K: The broker appreciates your assessment. We will contact you when we need you again.

V: Under- [Kleanu has logged off….] –Fucking two bit son of a clanless turian whore

-End Transmission-

* * *

 **HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6, Office of the UNSC Security Council**

 **Sydney, Earth**

 **October 10th, 2559**

"I apologize but I didn't catch that. He did what?"

The tall, lithe form of ONI Lieutenant Desan Greymore coughed before repeating his report. "Sirs, Spartan Lieutenant Frederic-104 has requested two days of leave."

The Commander's grey eyes swept briefly across the faces of the four most powerful military leaders in the UNSC in an attempt to figure out what they were thinking. Surprisingly, Rear Admiral Serin Osman and the Section Zero Head were the easiest to read, their faces betraying the confused state that they were in. Lieutenant Desan Greymore had been in charge of setting up SPARTAN Blue Team's main deployments, and with the sudden request from SPARTAN-104 catching him off guard; he just was not quite sure how to respond. He immediately opened a Priority One communications link to his boss, the Head of ONI's Section Three for guidance.

He received it, but not before the Omnipresent Section Zero did, who in turn flagged the key words: SPARTAN, 104, and LEAVE. In less than an hour, Commander in Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence Serin Osman, the Core 4, Fleet Admiral Lord Terrance Hood, and Director Catherine Elizabeth Halsey were all made aware.

Hence the assembly before him, which consisted of the CINCONI, Admiral Hood, the Head of Section Zero and Dr. Halsey, all in hologram. To s

It was fucking scary.

Rear Admiral Osman's voice found its way into his ears. And like a storm over the water, the air became cold despite the fact that they were more than three-hundred light years away.

"Did you inquire the location or reason for request?"

Commander Greymore cleared his voice once, "Yes ma'am. Jovian Moons, Titan. He stated his attention of visiting someone there."

The Mediterranean looking woman raised a single eyebrow. He could hear her inhale deeply as she considered something. To his surprise, she simply closed her palms together before saying "That will be all. We'll contact you when we have an answer."

The blue hologram of the man disappeared, leaving the four seated members on the curved table to talk amongst themselves.

To no one's surprise, Dr. Catherine Halsey was the first one to speak. Her holographic fingers came to the bottom of her chin, "Peculiar. Who on Titan is important enough for him to request leave."

Serin Osman slumped slightly into the back of her chair before holding her hands. The glaring face she had earlier was gone, now replaced by the smallest of smirks. Her answer was brief, "A girl."

The coughing sound that originated from the center of the Admiralty table caught the attention of everyone. For the first time in what felt like decades, someone had actually caught Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood _laughing_. Unsure of how to respond to strange and unusual action, the three others sat quietly, puzzled. Admiral Osman's answer did not make sense unless…

When the bellowing sound came down to a chuckle, Lord Hood turned towards the lab-coated hologram of the SPARTAN Director, "I thought your indoctrination and augmentation procedures eliminated the need for a sex drive Catherine?"

Her only response was to sit there, contemplating the possibility. They did the math, created projections and spent years predicting the possible side effects and outcomes of every augmentation. The Catalytic Thyroid Implant theoretically suppressed the sex drive that would come with the SPARTANs as they grew and aged. What Admiral Osman was suggesting –and it would be the first time she ever heard of it- was that the dissolvement of the platinum pellet in the left thyroid gland could not completely prevent the sex hormones from working. In other words, even technology could not overcome some aspects of human nature. The biggest problem however was not the ineffectiveness of the thyroid implant itself, but the psychological condition that could derive from what would be a new (at least to the SPARTAN)… experience. And that was without including the possibilities that the other SPARTANs augmentations may be unknowingly suffering from similar issues or worse, late term-rejection.

But at the same time, this may not have anything to do with rejection or any kind of issue. Perhaps it was a long-term side affect, augmentation on a SPARTANs scale for this long? It has never been recorded, much less anaylzed, perhaps this was the way things were meant to happen.

It was not until Halsey looked around the room that she noticed everyone was staring at her.

The Head of Section Zero, a one Admiral Jack Harper, narrowed his eyes as he watch Halsey contemplating something, "It seems the good doctor has something to share." Aware of how Halsey spoke when something important was on her mind, the Admiral rested his hands on his head and prepared for the incoming lecture.

But to his surprise -as well as the others- she gave a one sentence reply that summed up her idea on how to move forward.

"I don't know."

Despite Admiral Osman's attempts to keep her face straight and expressionless, she would find herself smirking widely to Halsey's out-of-character comment. She could act like the same old doctor that Osman knew all those years back, but overall she was a completely different person since becoming the Project Head of the SPARTAN-IV program.

In a way, it only made sense that the "mother" of the original SPARTANs would be the "mother" of the new ones. And since her involvement, the SPARTAN-IV program had achieved wonders and a high success rate that made up for the fuck-up that were the first two classes of SPARTAN IVs. More than ten of them had gone AWOL in the past few years, with over fifty SPARTAN-IVs being decommissioned after the discovery that their bodies had undergone severe stresses and damage from undergoing "imperfect augmentations". As it turned out, the very optimistic demographics and test phases had not accounted for the long-term effects on individuals with "common-day genetics", not the superior genetics of previous SPARTAN-iterations. While the candidate pool was much wider than previously before allowing for some adults to undergo the augmentation process, the entire procedure suffered from random, dangerous, long-term side effects.

And that was without including what were private corporations' ramshackle attempts of Powered Assault Armor production. With less than five _complete_ schematics to work off of and nearly no funding due to the fact that feeding civilization took importance over Powered Armor research, the power armor that was created in Halsey's absence was of inferior quality at best compared to the Mark V.

With Halsey's retrieval from Trevelyan that all changed.

Catherine Halsey had fixed the issues of the SPARTAN IV program in less than two years. Starting by firing half of the scientists who convinced the Admiralty board that "anyone could become a SPARTAN" was the way to go, she took charge of the SPARTAN-IV program in 2554. She convinced Lord Hood that if given less than the amount of resources used to build a single cruiser, she could solve the issues of program costs as well as create what she called " _Real Spartans"._ Many armory corporations, who attempted to pitch in their own MJOLNIR products to the SPARTAN-IV program, dropped out as Halsey outdid most of them with bare resources. SPARTAN candidates left as Halsey's new guidelines forced many to drop out. The changes had brought her many enemies: people such as General Madsen, Senator Andrew Del Rio, numerous corporate chiefs and bureaucrats who all shared a dislike for her strict selection parameters.

Before SPARTAN Musa- 096's unfortunate demise, he too disagreed with Halsey over a great number of things.

However, Osman could not deny that Halsey had singlehandedly shaped what was the most influential branch in the UNSC. Through hundreds of thousands of hours she had created and perfected the 2nd Generation of MJOLNIR in the form of what was commonly known as the RECRUIT armor. Through rigorous training courses led by Musa-096 and Jun-A266, she had remade the SPARTAN IV in the image of the SPARTAN IIs.

And now they had to discuss the possibility that one of the original SPARTANs may be undergoing something that was ruled out as impossible. An indicator that even the SPARTAN IIs may be undergoing long-term issues with their own augmentations.

"Who is the girl on Titan?" asked Lord Admiral Hood.

The CINCONI had to wait to answer his question. It had been years since Osman last checked on her, trusting her subordinates to take care of her like Osman ordered.

"Her name is Veta Lopis, she was previously a Special Investigator during the Gao Conflict. Over the course of her investigation, she had worked closely with SPARTAN Blue Team, providing key intelligence and assistance when facing numerous obstacles. Despite opportunities to assist hostile forces, she had sided with the 717th Xeno-materials Exploitation Battalion and aware that we need more specialized personal in our force, I offered her a position from with ONI. For the past seven years, she had been instrumental in the identification of two insurrectionist agents in the SPARTAN Branch as well as the solving of multiple military murders within the inner colonies. Capture of the rogue Artificial Intelligence on Luna? That was her."

Lord Hood and his close friend, Admiral Harper seemed to consider that for a few moments. They both shifted in their seats when Halsey began her own inquiry. "How many times has she worked with my SPARTAN?"

The answer was retrieved in a matter of micro-seconds thanks to the specialized Neural interface in the back of Osman's skull. The request for retrieval was handled by one of ONI's many dedicated dumb artificial intelligences, the files were gathered and copied directly to Osman's brain, and she smiled when she became aware of them.

"In the past seven years, there were a recorded twenty-seven encounters between the two of them. With a theoretical thirty-three due to the proximity of one another at certain times. Intelligence on sight has also determined higher perspiration, faster heart rates, and other basic signs of attraction during these encounters. Based on these factors alone we can positively determine that the two of them are attracted to one another. However, the physiological analysis of the two has determined the relationship to not be based on physical investment-" She tilted her head slightly at the aging doctor. "-but emotional security."

Like the other three in the room, she paused at the realization of what the report was stating. Frederic Ellsworth, a man who been destined to be a supersoldier since he was a child. A man who been taught to suppress the normal feelings and thoughts that came with being human and to follow any order he was given to the bitter end. A man who been indoctrinated into believing that the day he stopped fighting would be the day he died. A human being who had his humanity stolen from him in the pursuit of the greater good... Had broke his training, his indoctrination, and did something perfectly human… he found a pleasing feeling in the presence of another person.

And nobody flagged that.

 _Somebody is definitely getting fired for their incompetence._

Seeing the chance to lighten the mood, Admiral Harper happily pitched in his own thought. "I didn't know your SPARTANs were capable of making candlelight dinners."

Everyone, even Osman smiled at Harper's remark. Despite Harper's well intended comment, Osman could not afford to have the topic change when they were on something so serious.

Bringing everyone's attention back to the issue at hand, Osman shifted the room back to the topic. "How exactly do we proceed? If this relationship, if we can even call it that, is allowed to continue it may compromise the training and mindset that has been so carefully engraved into Frederic-104. It may cause emotional instability or worse… after all we have to account for the affect the death of someone close can do to people. Just look at what the Spirit of Fire incident did to Douglas-042. His combat capability was reduced to zero percent with the loss of Red Team and his left arm. It wasn't until we reintroduced him to Blue Team that he managed to move past his losses.

Admiral Jack Harper ran his hand through his well-groomed silver hair before coming to his own conclusion. "I have to agree with Admiral Osman's assessment. If we allow this relationship to grow and pester it may backfire on us. With the Systems Alliance winning Andesia, rumors of the SA infiltrating Conrad's Point, and still no contact with the 2nd contact aliens, taking a SPARTAN off the playing field seems... illogical."

Halsey frowned. "We have no evidence to suggest that Ms Lopis's relationship could negatively affect Fred. If anything allowing it would allow us to gain a better understanding of how my SPARTANs are responding to the world of today. A bridge between today's world and the wars of the past decade could assure my SPARTANs some reliable mean of adapting to impossible concepts, such as peace. From what the batarians we captured have told us, a response seems unlikely anytime soon, they were working covertly. Regardless, the moment we need Fred, he will answer. So I see no harm in letting him a day or two off." said Halsey.

Osman knew that the truth lie deeper than that. Halsey felt sorry for the loss of her SPARTAN's humanity, she wanted all them to survive to live another day… even if that meant taking them off the battlefield. Osman did not doubt that Halsey would easily trade a hundred SPARTAN IV lives if it meant bringing back a single SPARTAN II.

The final choice would lie on the aging form of the great and wise Fleet Admiral. From the comfortable padding of his plush, leather seat, the aging hero known as Lord Hood made his decision the way he has always done it, direct and without the bullshit

"SPARTAN Lieutenant Frederic has never asked for anything else besides the next mission for the past thirty years. He has led the greatest field asset that has ever been in humanity's possession with dignity and served the UNSC with nothing less than 100% integrity. Not once has he failed in the completion of a single mission, and for the first time since his activation he asked but for two days. And you are telling me we should deny him less than a week of leave on the basis that allowing him to share time with a young woman could compromise his duty to the UNSC? I have my answer. Tell Commander Greymore to get his-"

Lord Hood never finished his order, for as soon as he said "his", one of Osman's aides came flying through the door. Following behind her were two MPs in exoskeletons, there hydraulics and servomotors hissing and groaning as they made their way into the room.

The aide looked exhausted and disorderly as she tried tucking her long, black hair behind her ears. Her other arm was trying to simultaneously hold and shuffle through dozens of papers and folders, dropping some and crinkling the others.

Catherine Halsey looked at the opposite direction of the woman before saying to no one in particular "What the hell?"

The scene would have been humorous in Hood's opinion had it not taken place during the middle of an important discussion. Unless Admiral Preston Cole was just found, Hood could not think of any possible excuse for the interruption. But what had him even more surprised was that this was one of Osman's aides, normally she would only have the very best around her at all times.

Admiral Jack Harper cleared his throat as loudly as he could in an attempt to get her attention, "Uh hmmmmmm."

Despite the not so-subtle hints, the woman still trying to gather up papers from the floor, this time, doing so on knees. This time, one of the MPs was trying to help her in her attempts, as she dropped all the files in her arms too.

Lord Hood could already sense the seething rage from Serin Osman at the act of insubordination. Hood already had his money on Osman's head blowing up from the awkward situation.

And not a moment later, she did just that.

Launching up from her seat, Osman yelled "Specialist Treynor, unless you are here to tell me that you just created a viable means of immortality, you better give me one good reason for me to not throw your ass out!" The woman stood up at attention to the commanding voice, her face red from embarrassment and her eyes laced with fear. Getting yelled by your sergeant was one thing, getting yelled at by the CINCONI herself was the difference between life and death.

"Sorry sir- I mean Ma'am. And sirs. Sorry, but I was working on our Emergency Communication Protocols when my station received a flagged Black Five-Clearance, Eyes Only, Priority 1 alert. Our Artificial Intelligences had shut down all UNSC outgoing communication networks, ONI Database, waypoint, ECHO, all of it until I could get the message delivered."

Admiral Osman opened her mouth to say something but bit back her words at the final moment.

"What was the message Specialist?"

She took one deep breath before inhaling.

"Protocol SAR Victor 05-3-117-Alpha has been enacted by Daedalus. They found _her_ sirs... They found the _Forward Unto Dawn_."

* * *

 **CSV Graceful Shara**

 **Classified Operation near Dark Arm (Site of cataclysmic event)**

 **Galactic Standard: 12.11.2187**

From the confined viewing quarters of the Citadel's newest stealth frigate, a ominous salarian in black and gold armor watched as two large freighter ships weaved between a field of grey metal. Blue lights and orange sparks could be seen everywhere as dozens of engineers and welders cut, separated and melded gigantic slabs of metal from cracked superstructures and warped hulls. Fellow aliens in vacuum suits floated around, carrying entire crates or industrial tools.

To most organic species, the entire scene looked chaotic, a collective of random activities with no shared purpose in a ship graveyard.

But to the salarian eye?

The scene looked similar to ants crawling around in a mound, organized and efficient. From his small hiding spot, on the edge of the ship, the salarian could see seven engineer teams, four of them were currently taking apart a two hundred meter long _piece_ of a dreadnought-sized vessel. As it rotated, the sly salarian was exposed to what the Citadel xeno-archeologists had presumed to be the ship's portside. Bold white letters were written across the hull spelling out " UN C HAL" before being abruptly cut off. The rest of the ship's hull was nowhere to be seen, likely lost to space. With the paint faded off the few remaining letters, it was impossible to discern the meaning of what was written on the ship.

Impossible that was, until fellow Spectre Tela Vasir showed up.

The Salarian had read the incident report leading to the death of the sole human prisoner under Vasir's guard during a reconnaissance mission of the nearly discovered alien species known as humans. Officially, the report given to Citadel Council stated that the prisoner had died from a fatal gunshot wound during a daring escape attempt. The Council, while saddened at the blood that was spilled, happily took her answer as it was, reviewing the autopsy report handed to them to make sure it matched with what was told.

It did.

 _He_ of course knew better than to trust the modified report, he himself had edited a few things as to protect the Council's image. The brutal and bloody details of a mission did not need to be known. It helped them sleep at night.

As for Vasir's report, it did not take much to uncover the truth. After reviewing the original, unmodified autopsy report, the sly, salarian Spectre had come to discover three obvious and important issues discovered in the human's body: first that the human was shot _twice_ , once in the leg, which immobilized him and another in the back, opposite of the chest cavity. Second, that there was a short, but noticeable period taken between each shot. And finally, that the nervous system of the human was so thoroughly _fried_. The damage was irreversible and definitely lethal- almost as if he had been exposed to ten neural shocks at once… or had undergone a forced mental symbiosis.

He also gained access to the autopsy report given to the Council, which had featured heavy editing from the coroner who was under orders.

Vasir's orders.

He could not help but admire her creative use on something like that. The benefits, while enormous, were outweighed by the sheer fact that had she gone too far, Tela Vasir would have likely overloaded her own nervous system. Additionally, due to the extremely taboo nature of a forced mindmeld, had anyone seen her doing so, the galactic populace would have likely called for her Spectre Resignation and life-imprisonment. But since she was not seen…

Spectre Vasir was now rated as the Citadel's best advisor over anything human. Ever since her arrival last demi-cycle, Tela had achieved more advancements and made more discoveries in four days than what the Citadel Exploratory teams had in over two cycles. She had filled in the missing letter of the ship's title, and translated the completed acronym. "UNSC" stood for United Nations Space Command. It was some kind of human-military entity. Tela was hesitant to provide details but what he understood was that they had been recently involved in many destructive wars. The most recent involving another alien race or empire, which resulted in nearly the destruction of their race.

Which was not hard to believe, considering past conflicts like the Rachni Wars or recent events like the Theseus Incursion.

He flared his nostrils.

The entire Theseus System was on lockdown with the turian 5th and 27th fleet standing guard near the relay. Curious that the damage _it_ did to nearby ships was similar to what was seen here.

Curious indeed.

But there were more important matters to attend to.

Within the empty space of the observation room, Spectre Jondum Bau was being debriefed by the three most powerful salarian beings in space. Three drones projected the fuzzy images of the Salarian Councilor, the High Dalatrass of Sur'Kesh and the cloaked figure of the STG Spymaster. Together they commanded all of Salarian space, deciding the ultimate fate of the species politically, economically and militarily.

It was rare to see one, much less two of the elder salarian together at once. But to see the three heads of Kesh'kemr together?

 _Anomalous_.

The cloaked spymaster continued talking, "Unusual activity in turian space. Observational Spycraft reports change in turian patrols near Terminus System: two dreadnoughts and six prime-cruisers covertly moved to unknown location. Homefleet Titan also given secret orders before deploying to unknown location."

Spectre Jondum Bau eyes narrowed at the final sentence. The Titan Fleet consisted of the largest collection of primecruisers in the turian military, making them effectively the single most powerful fleet in the galaxy (if you excluded the three-thousand strong quarian heavy fleet). Last time they left Palaven's home system was during the krogan rebellions and they did return until it was over.

Jondum flared his nostrils. "Last deployment was two thousand years ago. Twice the size of usual turian fleet and features most primecruisers in Galactic Space. Secret deployment calls for much concern. Possibility of sanctions due to unauthorized deployment with Council permission. Very Risky. STG have any clues as to location?"

As if expecting the answer, the Spymaster answered him "Sources indicate alien transmission picked up at edge of terminus system by turian communications outpost. Nearby STG Spycraft discovered three demi-cycles ago radio transmission to be of human origin. Here is copy of received."

White static filled the room causing Jondum to cover his hypersensitive cartilage horns in response. But as the signal adjusted, the noise slowly began to form into patterned, audible clicks, and eventually the noises turned into words.

" _Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is UNSC FFG-Two Zero One Forward Unto Dawn, requesting immediate evac. Survivors aboard. Prioritization code Victor Zero Five dash Three dash Sierra Zero One One Seven._ Mayday, Mayday-"

The updated translator took a while but every word was seamlessly translated, providing Jondum with a clear and concise understanding of what the female voice was saying in the distress signal. Three things were gained from the translation:

1) FFG likely meant frigate

2) There were survivors abroad the ship at the time the distress signal was being sent out

3) Unless all human ships utilized prioritization codes in their emergency beacons, this peculiar ship was very important

The Salarian Councilor would be the final one to speak, "As you have realized by now. The turians are making a grab for a human ship, any intention of sharing knowledge is deemed unlikely. We've limited the location down to a period of seven-light years, we believe the turians are also unsure of its exact location. Any direct political confirmations with the turian councilor over the human ship would only backfire against myself, as he has plausible deniability in this situation. Hence, our decision to select you as our observer. Your Spectre authority will allow you to go anywhere you need to. Your ship will protect your interests as well as your existance. Your identity will prevent you from being acted against, and in the event they do attempt anything... I will be able to confront the turian hierarchy over your absence. Spectre Bau, do you accept your mission?"

The question was rhetorical of course; the possibility of a choice was nonexistent. You did not have the three of the most powerful galactic leaders (or in the Spymaster's case, the most powerful intelligence leader, second only to the Shadow Broker) make an offer only to be told no. Denial would likely result in the removal of birthing rights, along with the degradation and shunning of his family.

So Jondum did the only thing he could, he looked into the soulless black eyes of the Salarian Spymaster before asking, "When do I begin?"

* * *

 **ONI_External_Access_Network/Event/Critical/2553/Black-4/Kilo-5_Incident**

 **-Coming later-**

 **Codex/Organization/Turian/Military/1st "Titan" fleet**

Named after the mythological Palavenian titans, the ancient deities that wandered Palaven's lands and flew through its skies, the legendary 1st 'Titan' Homefleet is the single largest fleet in the turian armada.

Originally created in response to the discovery of the Citadel Council's military capabilities, Titan Fleet's sole purpose was to act as the guard of Palaven in the event of an attack on the Trebia System. Fortunately for the Citadel Council, the Titan Fleet did not see any combat until the start of the 1st Krogan Rebellions, where they were instrumental in the defeat of powerful Warlords such as Shiagur, Graken Dhal, Kulle Serok, and their armies. The fleet's motto derived from the war, "Until the job is done."

Aware of the large amount of power held by the lone fleet, the Citadel Council forced the Titan fleet to either disband or stay in their home-system forever. In exchange, the turians would given an invitation to the Citadel Council for their bravery and sacrifice. To this day, the Titan Fleet remains stationed in the Trebia System.

Despite the handicaps, the Titan Fleet has not suffered any issues in combat effectiveness. Ships and crew are constantly replaced by the best the turian military has to offer. Primecruisers swarm the space in the Trebia System with the occasional dreadnought finding its way around. To this day, the invasion of the Trebia System is still considered impossible even by the most optimistic of the STG.

* * *

 **Author's notes: The process of creating this chapter was very costly (time-wise). After losing about four chapters worth of material for this story alone, I'm happy to have finally been finished with this... this thing. Some things worth mentioning, the whole Fred 104 and Veta Lopis thing was more of a nod or easter egg to last light. To clarify, it was a one time deal, unless I feel the need to bring Veta Lopis into the story, this will likely be the only time you have a mention of her. Sorry to disappoint you guys, but I'm not doing any romantic stuff. A little suggestive content here and there, but nothing worth writing about.**

* * *

 **Blinded in a bolthole:** **the armored historical Leonidas**

 **NightWithMoon : No mate. No they're not. :)**  


 **Welsh Guy : Glad you enjoyed it**

 **Ferduran : I would be more than happy to answer any further questions if the answer above does not satisfy your query.**

 **Outcast's Redeemer : I plan on doing just that. Theres three significant events in this story that I will give codex entries for: The Kilo-5 Incident, the Rise of the Systems Alliance (which is actually a rebel group in this story), and the Ghost of Requiem.**

 **Hunter139 : We're kinda putting two universes together and trying to blend it seamlessly. So you gotta give me a little artistic license. If Halo found its away around it, I'm pretty sure a civilization with a bigger economy would be capable of solving some of the issues. Don't get me wrong, its not like everyone has it. Only the most wealthiest of planets do, Khar'Shan has some, Thessia has one, and two asari colonies do too.**

 **By the way, the Spartans of Sparta are not SPARTANs. As for the whole building ship-idea, how about feeding masses, building the shipyards to build ships, creating arcologies for people to live in. A huge portion of resources were dedicated to the creation of a few "Salvation Projects" designed to keep humanity going in the event Earth fell, the Infinity being one of them. Theres only so much to go around and I feel thats one thing 343i kind fell on.**

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 **Comments? Criticisms? Flames?**


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